


The Universe Beyond

by hipsterhufflepuff



Series: The Stars Above Series [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dystopian Earth, Earth Fic, Electrocution, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fugitives, Gen, I promise there is fluff, IT'S BURIED BETWEEN ALL OF THE ANGST, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Mind Meld, Non-Canonical Violence, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prison, Somebody Goes Missing, Violence, everyone is a mess, tagged just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterhufflepuff/pseuds/hipsterhufflepuff
Summary: More than a year has passed since the Galra have overtaken the Earth, and no there has been no signs of Voltron anywhere. There is almost no resistance against the tyrannical reign, except for a small team of rebels fighting tirelessly against the powerful force. But they are running out of places to hide and enemies are around every corner. Join Marisol, Matt, and Colleen, along with some new faces as they try to stay alive in the worst of times.Everything is going to change, for better or worse. But are they ready?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the sequel to the Stars Above! Get ready for a wild ride!  
> I plan on updating this on a weekly schedule, but I am still working out a few bumps in the story.  
> Please feel free to comment or leave kudos below!  
> Follow me on Tumblr at @hipsterhufflepuff

***

Being a fugitive sucked ass.

Long hours, no vacations, having to sleep in the most awkward places (or sometimes getting no sleep at all), scouring for food out of dumpsters, stealing from others was a new low, even for them. Not to mention that if they were caught by the Galra they would probably be killed on sight.  
Not the makings of a dream job, right?

Unfortunately, that is the life Matt leads, yet again.  
You'd think he would be used to it by now...You would be wrong.  
At least in space there was always someone to turn to, somewhere else to go, but here on Earth, they were stuck by their own laws of physics. They couldn’t open a wormhole across the country if they were being chased, or use some kind of cloaking device that worked and never caused a power surge. Back then, he just helped run things and lead missions, now he was in charge, well co-leading with his fiancee, a rag-tag team of misfits who were lucky to have made it this far. It was a miracle that they hadn't been captured by now, they couldn't agree on anything to save their lives, let alone fight back against the most powerful army in the known universe. So they stuck to trying to stay alive and contact the people who could take them down. 

Matt pulled the cloth hood of his black leather jacket further around his head and pulled the bandana snugly around his nose, trying to burrow himself into the fabric. He made note of every camera on the corners of the streets, making sure his face was not clearly visible. The new recognition scanners the Galra put up in their security cameras could recognize facial similarities, cross-reference them with the laundry list of criminals, and have a whole platoon on him before he could reach the next block.  
They had been lucky so far, making it across the country with only several attempts of their arrest. But those were usually dumb mistakes that they had corrected now. By the time they could be reported, they had disappeared into sunset like bandits.  
He still needed to be careful. He only needed to be out for a couple of parts for the computers, maybe even some food if he could find it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He weaved through the crowd of aliens and humans alike, trying to sell old ship parts and bits and ends of machinery to the bustling crowds from their stands.  
Here in this forgotten city's slums overflowing with wanted criminals and poor folks who were teetering on the edge of working class and prisoner class, both alien and human lived side by side in disgruntled agreement. The one good thing about the invasion of the Galra was the tolerance level people gained. Hardly anyone cared what you looked like on the outside or where you came from before now (unless there was a hefty reward, then it mattered a whole lot), it wasn't even worth the effort of having prejudice with the pressure of not running behind on expenses.  
While Matt recognized many different species, none of the faces looked familiar. No sign of anyone he knew from the Resistance or the Blade was hiding here, which meant no one had heard of what was going on here, not even Voltron. It meant that they were truly on their own here. 

Every sense was on edge already, with being out and been running for so long, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up was never a good sign. Matt quietly ended his bargaining with the Unilu trader and turned on his heel to keep walking. The sensation stayed, and he could have sworn he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He narrowed his eyes and changed his course. Had this been a year ago, he probably would have thought nothing of it, letting it go and probably getting someone he loved hurt in the process. He had learned his lesson the hard way. He was stronger now, able to hold his own. Like hell he was going to let this person keep watching him.

He weaved through the crowds of people, shouting out in dozens of foreign languages his translator barely picked out about their sales and food. The feeling still followed, bothering him to no end. He stopped at several booths that were selling parts, (he still had to run his errands), picking up what he needed and acting like he was just strolling along.  
He wandered until he found a familiar alley without cameras pointed down at the streets and a convenient escape route in case things went south, leisurely walking towards it. The eyes followed, according to his plan. Matt took several steps in before ducking behind a dumpster, waiting for the culprit to show their face, his dagger clenched tightly in his fist. 

The person stumbled into the alley, stopping in their tracks when they found no sight of him. Matt waited patiently until the footsteps were almost on top of him. Just as a booted foot was seen, Matt leaped out, grasping the person by their collar and shoving them down where he had just been squatting, pinning them with his knee to their chest and his knife to their throat. The hood fell, revealing a blond haired boy completely caught off guard. He looked a bit younger than him, the barest hints of baby fat clinging stubbornly to his cheeks. His blue eyes were wide in fright as he regarded the knife with a eyes crossed.

“P-Please don’t hurt me!” He wheezed pathetically, holding his hands up surrendering as Matt ripped down his bandana.  
“Let me see your wrists!” Matt demanded, already squinting at his covered arms. The boy offered them up without any problems, allowing Matt to shove his sleeves down.  
Ever since the Galra had invaded, they had been marking humans, implanting trackers into prisoners or workers, while marking up ones that had proven to be worthy in an arena. One thick line for prisoner. Two bands for workers. Three for gladiators. Whatever your stance in the world, you had some kind of mark on one of your wrists, (unless you were a fugitive like Matt). The boy had no kind of markings on him. 

“Why don’t you have any marks?” Matt demanded.  
“I-I wasn’t deemed worthy enough for the fighting ring. They were going to send me to a camp, but I ran away, I-I'm a fugitive like you.”  
Matt loosened his hold, but only slightly. No one ever admitted they were a fugitive of the Galra so loudly in public, so this kid was either fresh out or incredibly stupid.  
“Why were you following me?”  
“Because you’re one of the rebels!”  
In all honesty, Matt should have knocked him out at this point and been done with him. The word _‘rebel’_ was tabooed, even saying it around the wrong people could get them sent off to a prison camp. Something about the way the kid looked at him stopped him. Some sort of innocent-like expression that had not existed in their world for a long time. It fanned the very small ember of hope that there were more than just their small group out there.

“You should be careful throwing around words, you never know whom you’re talking to.” Matt said harshly.  
“But you are!” A harsh look his way had him lowering his voice. “You’re famous. People look up to the guy who escaped the Galra's capture twice and continues to fight. You’re a hero!”  
A mental image of Pidge came to mind, her and the Green Lion flying around space, saving lives and stopping the bad guys before it could get worse. He failed both of those steps. Katie was a Paladin of Voltron, a true hero, not Matt.

“I’m the furthest thing from a hero, kid. You should find another one that won’t get you killed.” Matt let him go and pulled his bandana over his mouth again, ready to walk away and forget this conversation ever happened. He wasn't dangerous, just stupid. If he had any remaining brain cells, the kid would forget this encounter too.  
“I have a base!” He shouted just as Matt was leaving. 

He froze in place, waiting for the sounds of passing drones and sentries to die away before turning around slowly, still absorbing what he had just heard.  
“You have a what?” He questioned darkly.  
“My uncle used to work for the Galaxy Garrison, before it got corrupted. He worked on a base just off the coast. It was evacuated during the initial invasion, it's empty and open for anyone who knows about it.” 

Matt strode towards him again, showing off his knife, the boy whimpered and huddled back against the dumpster.  
“So you’re telling me that there is a secret military base that is just free to anyone? And you're here to tell some stranger about it in broad daylight without any kind of bribing going on? How do I know that you’re not leading me into a Glara base just to earn the reward?” Matt had seen the signs and the commercials about Marisol and himself. A 2,000,000 GAC reward for anyone who turned them both over to the Emperor. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe in anyone anymore, and this kid was just giving important information away.  
“No, no I swear! I want to help. The Galra has my family in those camps, I want to get them out. I know it sounds crazy, but you're my last hope. If anyone can stop them it'll be you. Please? Help me help you?” The boy offered his hand up to Matt. 

Matt grit his teeth. He hated sincere people, mostly because he couldn’t tell who was actually telling the truth anymore. He had to make a choice, and make it fast, because they couldn't wait out the patrols any longer.  
But if this kid was telling the truth, they could finally have a safe place to plan and stay without the constant threat of the Galra. If he was lying, he’d be handing over the people he cared about to the same hostiles that wanted him dead. Should he risk everything on the words of a stranger?  
“I would need to talk to my team.” An optimistic voice that reminded him of Marisol ended up winning out in the end, despite his better judgement. 

“Oh o-of course. Then wha-“  
He never finished his question because of a well aimed roundhouse kick to his head that sent him reeling into the dumpster with a echoing thud and then slumping on the ground unconscious. After pausing to make sure no one had heard the loud noise, Matt quickly bent down and slung the boy over his shoulders, grunting from the unexpected weight of the kid. He headed further down the alley, knowing a way back to the base that would avoid getting caught with an unconscious human wrapped around him. Matt kicked open the sewer lid, gagging slightly at the stench, something he had yet to get used to. He awkwardly climbed down the ladder to the city sewage system, dragging the boy and the lid behind him, erasing any evidence of their being there.

Just another day in his dream job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 brownie points to whoever can figure out who the kid is. 
> 
> How does he know about a base? Where is Voltron? How are they going to get out of this?   
> All that and more next time ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (After 20 days of radio silence, I finally found my creativity again haha whoops)  
> This in the chapter where we meet the rest of the group, world build a bit, as well as make some hard decisions. Please let me know what you think down below!

***

Marisol woke to the sound of the bed creaking under the weight of something leaning against it. She hummed lightly when she felt pressure on her face, calloused fingertips gently pushing messy bedhead out of the way. She blinked her bleary eyes open, allowing them to focus on the darken shape in front of her. Even though her hand was wrapped around her knife and she was as tight as a coil from anticipation of an attack, she smiled up at the person, forcing her fight or flight instincts to die down.

“Morning sunshine.” Matt muttered as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.  
“Is it still morning?” She asked, voice croaking from sleep. When she had come down from outlook duty it was just starting to turn into dawn, and sleep already eluded her on a normal night.  
“Actually no, it’s around 3 in the afternoon, but that’s morning for you, right?”  
She snorted quietly and threaded her fingers through his, pulling him into bed with her. His civilian clothes caught on against her flannel top. She carefully unhooked his shirt from hers as he kicked off his muddy boots to cuddle next to her on her makeshift cot.

“Have you been out?”  
“Ran some errands this morning for Mom. Staked out a few empty sites, tried to find out some information on the Galra’s movements.” He allowed her to run her fingers through his hair once she completed her task, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “They haven’t gotten any closer, but I think we should still keep moving towards the coast.”  
“We’re going to run out of land soon.” Despite the joking tone, she was deadly serious. They had been running for so long. They were running out of places to turn, with the Galra closing in more and more every day. It was hard enough to run now, let alone once they were pinned. 

The Galra had the entire Earth's population under it’s control (well, save for the few freedom fighters she knew). Resistance was basically futile when the enemies had more advanced technology and the element of surprise on their side, as most people didn't believe that aliens existed until they were barging through their homes and separating their families.  
Some tried to push back against the invaders, Russia and China had kept them out of their heavily populated areas for several weeks, but eventually they fell. The American government even went as far as to try to nuke Galra Central Command, but it had barely scratched the paint job. The Galra made America an example for the rest of the world, ridding nearly a quarter of the population with a flick of their wrists. Most of the midwest and the middle of the country were laid to waste, prison camps filled to the brim with men and women who had once been in power sprouting up. The other countries surrendered rather quickly after that, not wanting to risk their own people.

Lotor had been right about having few demands. They were given new technology and the universe saw them for the first time ever. Even if they were not allowed the new technology, extraterrestrials brought their own and started to generate trade with the humans to create parts for weapons and armor, creating revenue for the Empire and giving humans a small carrot on a very long stick. Many even convinced themselves that if they played by their rules and kept up with their demands, then they could lead somewhat normal lives. The Galra didn't mind, as long as everyone knew who was still in charge.  
He rid the world of their separate governments and ruling regimes, opting for them all to follow the Galra empire. Lotor also dismantled things such as United Nations, and other international agencies, only leaving places like Galaxy Garrison running, but it was under tight control and was only facilitated by Galra. He had every single abled bodied person assigned to different levels of work camps or prison camps across the world, depending on their involvement in governments or military and how much they resisted. Many humans that were deemed to be the best of the best were taken aboard the main fleet, some to fight in the newly reinstated gladiator fights while others were taken for further testing and _repossessing_ , whatever that meant. Either way, those people were never seen again. 

Despite the harsh rule and deplorable conditions, there was little resistance, either out of fear or realizing it was useless to fight an empire that knew nearly every move of every living soul on the planet. Marisol could count the number of resistance fighters she knew of on one hand, one of them being the man lying next to her. 

“Hey, you still with me?” He brought her back to the present, grabbing her stilled hand intertwined in his hair.  
“Yeah, I was just thinking.” She shook her head, burrowing her face in his chest.  
“About what?”  
“The Galra.”  
“Me too. It’s getting harder to go out without raising suspicion.” He admitted, grasping her hand tighter. It was in these quiet moments that they could be venerable with each other, their worries only for their ears.  
“Maybe we should move on, find somewhere new?”  
“But where?” Marisol asked quietly.  
Matt didn’t answer right away, pressing their intertwined hands to his mouth and closed his eyes, allowing himself some time to think. 

“Do you thing the Galra are in Hawaii?” Marisol asked.  
“Maybe, why?” He didn’t open his eyes.  
“I’m just imagining if they were there, wearing Hawaiian shirts and grass skirts, maybe even some of them in a coconut bras.”  
His eyes snapped open. 

“That’s fucking disturbing.” He couldn’t help the laugh the bubbled up.  
“Or maybe if they’re not there, then we could go. We need a vacation.”  
“Or a honeymoon.” He said, shifting over so he could kiss her forehead again, his mouth starting to wander lazily over her sleepy face.  
“We’d need to be married to have a honeymoon, silly.” She corrected him.  
“After what we’ve been through, we’re through all of the stages and straight into that retirement phase.” He murmured as he started to drift down to her exposed neck. “You know, when their sexual life picks back up and they start getting freaky.”  
“Gross.” She wrinkled her nose as her fingers found their way into his hair again, a small giggle making its way out of her mouth.  
“Says the girl imagining a Galra in a grass skirt.”  
“I’d much rather see you in a grass skirt.”  
“I would rock a grass skirt, I’ve totally got the hips for it.” He wiggled his hips against hers, a full laugh coming out of Marisol this time. 

She ducked her head and brought his mouth up to hers, sighing contently. His hands made their way up, one holding onto her waist and the other cradling the side of her head. Her hands sunk down to his lower back as she deepened the kiss. He moaned slightly, resting his legs on the outside of hers, pulling her up until they were sitting upright in bed, never breaking the kiss. Her hands gripped the back of his shirt, sneaking under to feel his bare back until she had it bunched up around his shoulders. He enthusiastically shucked it off, flinging it out of sight, before bearing down on her again to work off her clothing.  
Marisol couldn’t remember the last time they had been alone this long in the bedroom, let alone had a good shag. There was never alone time in a war, never time for two people whom loved each other to do more than chaste kisses before missions or long hugs afterwords, too tired to do anything except collapse against each other in bed and sleep for however long they could. It was moments like this that Marisol looked forward to, that kept her going on rough nights. 

“Commanders?”

Jesus, it’s like she jinxed it.

Matt sighed, thinking the same thing she was. He rolled away so Marisol could address the figure at the door, trying to button up her shirt with the most decency she could muster. 

“Yes Cree?” She tried her hardest not to be short, (even though she was pissed as hell).  
Of all of the distractions it could have been, it had to be the only alien member of their team, looking akin to a child who had caught their parents in the act. The dark skinned creature stood awkwardly in the doorway, having to bend down slightly to see into the room, all four hands covering up his face to protect their dignity.  
“Have I interrupted your private time with your mate? Shall I come back post-coitus?” 

If Marisol hadn’t been blushing before, she was now. Matt was red from his ears to his collar bones, still trying to find his shirt without breaking eye contact.  
“Is it important?” (A small part of Marisol hoped that it was not).  
“I wished to inform Commander Holt that the boy you brought in has awoken.”  
“The boy?” Marisol looked over at Matt perplexed.

“Ah, yeah, thank you Cree, tell the rest of the team to meet us down in the meeting room. We’ll talk to him together.”  
“Shall I put it off so you two can be intimate?”  
“No!” Marisol said harshly, blushing even harder. “No, nope, we’ll be down right after you.”  
“Yes ma’am.” Cree exited the room. 

Marisol flopped back on the bed as Matt got up to find his shirt.  
“That was awkward.” Matt laughed.  
“Shut up.” Marisol rolled her eyes, covering her face with her hands. Getting caught in the act was one thing, but by an alien who had just recently found out what human sex was about was way worse. She wouldn’t be surprised if he would tell everybody about it as they gathered. 

“So what’s about this boy?” Marisol asked as she started to get dressed for the day, pulling on a shirt off of the floor from the previous night.  
“He claims to have a secret base, one that not even the Galra know about. Free information in exchange for safety.” He said skeptically as he pulled the shirt over his head. Marisol raised an eyebrow as she pulled up her pants.  
“And he wants us to believe him?” Last time they believed someone's word blindly, Colleen rolled her ankle and they were chased down by Galra sentries.  
“Exactly my thoughts, but if he is right, then it means no more running. We could finally start the Melding.”  
Marisol paused, fumbling slightly with her utility belt. The Melding was their one chance that could change the fate of the Earth. They had been meaning to start the project ages ago, but with constantly being on the move from advancing troops, there wasn’t any time to do any preparations, let alone try it. They were steadily growing closer everyday, with Colleen and Cree assembling it piece by piece from their errands.

“It’s a risky move, even for us.”  
“I know.” Matt stood up, gently holding her head in his hands. “But the sooner we start the Melding, the sooner we can stop the Galra. We can't keep up with our running game. Maybe this might turn out for us.”  
“When has it ever worked in our favor?” She asked him.  
“Maybe today is our day.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Maybe we’re one step closer to Hawaii.” 

“I trust you, but it's a team decision.”  
“I know, which is why we should get down there.” He gently kissed her, before pulling away and leaving the room.  
“You’re shirt is on backwards, you goon.” She teased.  
His footsteps stopped, long enough to readjust his shirt, before continuing down the hall. She shook her head and continued to get ready.

***

Marisol stretched her arms above her head as she exited her room, feeling her back pop and crack with the movement. Her muscles screamed in protest as she walked down the dim halls, but she was used to the dull ache that took over her body, from lack of sleep, overworking her body, or some combination of both. She was not used to this life of living on the run, despite it being well over a year since the initial invasion. It seemed like just yesterday she was fighting off Sentries with her practice Bō staff and running from her family. Now here she was, in some half-finished development project, eating dumpster leftovers and fleeing from an empire that wanted her dead.

Her boots pounded heavily in the empty stairwell, the tarp that covered the unfinished works flapping as she hurried down. She swore she could hear the fluttering of wings, chattering of birds from somewhere above her. There must have been some openings above, pulling her jacket tighter around her subconsciously. Whether or not they trusted this stranger's word, they would need to find somewhere else soon, before winter came and the cold air would be impossible to escape from. They would freeze to death in this building, hardly any walls or protection from the elements. 

Marisol wrestled with their dilemma as she hurried down to the basement.  
Could they trust this boy Cree and Matt mentioned? Could he actually know of a location that was safe from the Galra?  
They needed it, but it just seemed too well-timed for her liking. There were plenty of humans that groveled to the Galra, acting as spies and moles to gain safety or pardon from camps. She couldn’t understand how someone could turn in one of their own kind for their own skins, how they could turn their back on friends and family so they wouldn’t be hurt. Marisol would give anything for her family, she would endure the camps if it meant that she stayed loyal.

Thinking about her family hurt her heart, abandoning them so long ago. In Cuba, the situation was less harsh than the United States, more concerned about the manufacturing camps than the prison camps that dotted the US like stars. Colleen and herself had managed to find a boat driver that would take her family the 90 miles across, it meant pawning off her engagement ring, but it didn’t matter if it meant that her family was safe.  
They had protested vehemently when they found out that Marisol wasn’t coming with them. She lied through her teeth, saying Matt and her were waiting for Colleen’s family before they came over, promising from the bottom of her heart that she would see them again. She hugged her mama and papa, darkly wondering if that would be the last time before she shoved them in the row boat.  
She still remembered standing on the shore, chilled from the rough ocean waves that had splashed as she helped push the boat out to sea, watching the lantern on the boat bob and eventually disappear into the dark horizon. Her tears mixing with the salty spray when she lost sight of their boat, only being moved from the shoreline when a Galra patrol came too close for Matt’s liking.  
Even with them being safer, she worried, what if they had found out the connection to her and Lance? What if they put them in prison camps anyways, completely ruining their plans? They were so far away, Marisol might never know if anything happened to them, if she would ever see them again. These thoughts constantly plagued her, nightmares frequent if she did sleep long enough. 

Even so, Marisol had to force down the feelings in order to keep moving forward.  
She had a new mission and a new family, as patchwork and dysfunctional as it was. It was her job to keep them safe, no matter what. 

Just as she repeated the constant mantra that would get her through the day, she emerged in an old meeting room, everyone waiting on her. Cree gave her a knowing smile, casting a glance between Matt and her.  
Their other rebel member, Paulienne, scoffed at her as she toyed with her knife. Even though there was only a few years separating Marisol and Paulienne, they never quite saw eye to eye about certain things, the other girl even more distrusting of others than they were, and she approached everything with a 'stab first, ask questions later' mentality. But she was a valuable asset to their group, understanding the mechanics of cars and other non-technological based things that Colleen didn't know and she had single-handedly guided them safely out of New Orleans with her knowledge of secret passageways.  
The only reason that she hadn't made it on her own was because the Galra had a warrant out for her because of her and her family's involvement with them. They had taken her entire family to an unknown location, and she was determined to find out where her family was, even if it meant riding along with them for a while.

Colleen on the other hand, merely shook her head with a small smile on her face.  
“Glad you could join us.” She quipped at her friend.  
“You’re the one that wanted me on a double shift last night so you could work on your laptop.” Marisol rolled her eyes as she sat at the head of the table. Despite being a dual leadership, Matt insisted that she take the lead on most things, working better as a right hand man.  
“Sure, that’s the only thing you were doubling down on.” Paulienne said, the barest hint of teasing in her tone.  
“I’m right here.” Matt said, looking offended.  
“She has a point, you two were pretty intimate when I interrupted.” Cree pointed out.  
“Not helping.” Matt scowled.

“Guys, lets focus on the real reason we’re here.” Marisol rounded them up, turning her attention to the scrawny boy that was tied down to the chair across the table from her. For some reason, he seemed vaguely familiar, but she had seen so many new faces over the past few years that she couldn’t be too sure.  
“I assume you’ve done the initial pat-down, correct?” She asked Cree, who nodded in confirmation. “Great, then we can start the interrogation.”  
The boy looked quite fearful at the word interrogation, shuddering in his chair. 

“Don’t worry, if you have nothing to hide, then you should be fine.” Paulienne reassured the boy comfortlessly, grinning her sharpened canines at him. (Apparently she had gone through a goth phase in her teens and sharpened her teeth, keeping them around now because they could be useful).  
“What’s your name?” She asked him, trying to keep her voice low and steady, ignoring the threat of her fellow rebel.

“D-Dylan. Dylan Shepard.” Marisol cocked her head to the side.  
That name did ring a bell.  
“Where are you from, before all of this happened?”  
“Georgia, but we went to the same college, remember Anthropology 182? Your name is Marisol McClain.” She raised her eyebrows, the piece finally clicking. It was the fuckboy that sat behind her in her college class about cave carvings. He’s the one that sent her on a mission of research that drew her to call Colleen.  
“Dylan. Nice to see you again.” She said formally. “We had a class in college together.” She clarified to her confused comrades. 

“How did you find us, Dylan?” Matt asked.  
“I-I heard whispers that there was a resistance group still around fighting the aliens. Then I saw your profiles posted everywhere, claiming that you were fugitives and I put two and two together.” He explained. “I, um, wanted to see if the rumors were true, you guys are my last hope.”  
“Well ta-freaking-da.” Pauline said. “Are we everything that you hoped for?”  
“Well, um…”  
“Don’t answer that.”  
“O-okay.”

“So you told Matt that you know of a base?” Marisol sent a warning look towards Paulienne before continuing.  
“Yeah, my uncle, the one I told you about when you were looking into the Kerberos Mission, he used to help run that station before the Aliens came and dismantled every army and navy base. They have no use for it, so it’s empty.” He explained in a quavering voice.

“So this base is completely protected?” Colleen asked.  
“Yes. It was built back in the 60’s during the Cold War when everyone thought we were going to get bombed at any moment, so it’s basically impenetrable, with rations of food and water that could last up to years.”  
“So if you know about this safe haven, why not just go there yourself?” Paulienne asked suspiciously.  
“I-It’s impossible to get to alone. It’s out in the middle of the pacific, about 18 miles off shore, and being honest, I’m kind of a dud so I could never get in.” He shriveled under Paulienne's narrowed gaze. Marisol thought she might have to reign her back before the boy died of fright before they could get an actual location.

“So why come to us?” Matt questioned.  
“I figured that a resistance group would have some kind of tech expert that could get us in.” He eyed Colleen, who had her computer up and was typing furiously. “You guys are strong enough to get to the base. We can regroup and figure out a way to stop these aliens and take back our planet.” He sounded earnest, looking to each of them as if begging them to reason on his side.  
In all honesty, he sounded naive, like this was some kind of plot to a movie that would see them charging up to the Galra, attacking them, winning, and riding off into the sunset arm in arm while some great orchestral number played in the background. If the most powerful weapon in the entire universe could barely stop them, then how could four humans and a half-breed even try? 

“We will need to talk to one another. Cree?” She looked towards him. He nodded and grabbed the back of the boys chair. He yelped as Cree lifted him single handedly and walked him well out of ear shot. He closed the office door and sat down again.

“So we’re really going to believe in his horse shit he is spilling?” Paulienne asked venomously. "I'm not buying it."  
“I don’t know,” Matt said thoughtfully, “I couldn’t see any signs that he was lying, but there is something about him that isn't sitting right with me.”  
“I just checked his background, he did go to the same school as Marisol and was in a class with her, so he checks out on that." Colleen said from behind her laptop screen. "Plus his uncle did work for Galaxy Garrison.”  
“What about the base, does it even exist?” Cree asked.  
“Yes, he wasn’t lying about that either.” She swung the laptop around so that they could see the pin on her map. "Just as he had said, 18 miles out there was an anomaly, most would gloss over it as a trench in the ocean, but it could have been the base he had spoken of.”

“So he’s not lying, but something isn’t right. He’s not telling us something.” Paulienne said, side glancing over at where he was sitting behind the glass.  
“I think we should trust him.” Cree said. “If he is not lying, then this could be our chance.”  
“It would be a good place to start the Melding,” Colleen agreed. “The base probably still has functioning equipment we could use.”

“I disagree!” Paulienne stated hotly. “I don’t think we should follow some friend of a friend’s advice. Even if he is telling the truth, he might be a mole, he could sell us out with a flick of his wrist.”  
“Paulienne has a point.” Matt begrudgingly agreed. “The Galra have been stepping up their game, we only narrowly escaped last time. Even if he doesn’t betray us on this, he could be waiting for his opportunity.”  
“Matthew, I have been on this Earth for centuries, and I know very well that not every human is bad.” Cree said cocking his head.  
“But not every human is good.” Paulienne countered. “Especially now-a-days, everybody is just trying to get an angle over someone. We are the last rebellion group on this hemisphere, hell maybe on Earth, and he could turn us all over with a flick of his wrist.  
"He didn't have any markings on his wrists. I find that suspicious." Matt said, more to himself than anyone in particular. Paulienne gestured like that solved the case.  
"But neither do any of us." Cree corrected, showing off all four arms to prove his point.

"Our best shot is to bounce now and get to the island without the kid even knowing that we’re gone.” Paulienne said as if she was calling the shots.  
“He could turn us over for betraying him like that.” Colleen pointed out.  
“We could kill him.” Paulienne countered. “That would solve a lot of our problems.”  
“No! I would never kill an innocent human on a chance that he might never take.” Cree stated harshly. “Why must you have to distrust everything that comes our way?”  
“Because, ever since the very beginning, _nothing_ has worked out for us.” Paulienne stood from her chair, a fire in her eyes and voice. “You know that just as well as I do, Cree. Remember what happened in Kansas?”  
The gentle giant looked at his companion with the barest hint of anger crossing his features, slowly standing up to tower over the human girl, who actually looked like she regretted bringing that failure back up.  
"I remember. I remember it very well whenever I get the chance to sleep."  
Matt quickly got to his feet to try to act as a barrier between the two of them, but it was quickly rolling down hill.  
"No one has to die! We can just leave him, but we can't kill him." He protested.

“Marisol?” Colleen’s soft voice stopped their argument before it turned into a screaming match, all three of them looking over at Marisol, who had an unusually quiet demeanor for once. Marisol was usually the one standing toe-to-toe with Paulienne, yet she had yet to pitch her opinion. “We’re evenly divided, you need to help break the tie.”  
Marisol pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. It hardly ever came down to her making the final call, usually they made a decision that one or more members would disagree with but go with because they had no other choice. That was the last thing that they needed now.  
She could understand both sides of their arguments. She wanted to see the best in people and still believe that there was good things for them in this world, but it’s been getting harder, like Matt said.  
Either way this would go, this was probably one of the most risky things that they would decide.

Marisol sighed as she stood up, all eyes on her.  
“No one should have to break the tie. We are a team, we need to make this decision together, without any doubts." She looked over at the two arguing teammates, softly urging them to calm down. They backed away, waiting for her to speak again.  
"I want to propose a medium solution; we go to this base, like he wants us to. It’s the best solution for us in the end. We give him an inch. If he gives us a mile, then maybe we can think about trusting him. If he does not, the middle of the ocean is a good place to hide a body.” The words tasted like acid on her tongue, tainting the air with the heaviness of the threat. She tried her best to not see Matt's horrified face at the threat. Paulienne and Cree both sat down, not completely satisfied, but nodded in agreement.  
“I trust your judgement, Marisol. This is probably the best decision.” Colleen told her, rubbing her arm.

Marisol looked to Matt, who wasn’t making eye contact with any of them.  
"Matt?" She barely spoke his name, hating the dark look on his face as he looked at the table.  
“Fine. But I want no part if we have to kill him.” He finally agreed, refusing to look at Marisol. Her face fell, but she kept her mouth shut. His opinion was the most important to her, him not being satisfied with the decision was a punch to the gut.

“I’ll go tell him the news.” Cree suggested lightly. Marisol dismissed him with a heavy nod, feeling extremely exhausted.   
“I’ll come with. I need to see the coordinates and the type of security I’ll need to break through.” Colleen gathered her computers and followed the alien, looking comical as she only stood waist high compared to him.  
Matt still sat in his chair, not regarding their teammates as they left.  
“I’ll go ration our things, we should probably go as soon as they figure it out.” Paulienne stated blandly, noticing the growing tension in the air.

Marisol waited until the room was completely empty before addressing her fiance.   
"Matt..."  
“Would you really kill him?” He asked to the table.  
“If he decided to hurt my loved ones, yeah, I just might.” She finally admitted. Past Marisol would have balked at this statement, loving her family but not enough to actually kill someone over them.  
“If we do that to that boy, what makes us better than the Galra?” He finally looked up, his brown eyes showing no warmth in them.

She slowly stood up, starting to walk over to him, but he ducked out of her reach.   
“I’m not saying we have to. We might not have to." Marisol sighed. "Matt, I tried to make the best choice, but sometimes all we have are bad choices.”  
He chuckled humorlessly.  
“What?”  
“Nothing, I just thought I was done with making bad choices.”  
He stood up, ignoring the small “wait” as he walked out the room, the glass shuddering from the slamming door. Colleen and Cree looked over from where they were sitting with Dylan, who also looked curious at Matt's abrupt departure.

Marisol sighed again, settling down in the squeaky chair facing away from the window. She tried to will the tears away as her frustration peaked.  
Was she making the right choice? At this point, even she didn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

***

A heavy grey fog settled over the horizon, reaching out in front of her endlessly, the roar of the ocean waves and the winds dull in her ears. Marisol hadn’t realized how much she missed the smell of the sea, not until it was flooding her senses with the harsh cold spray from the grey waves splashing up, or the seagulls and pelicans on the hunt for the day’s meal, or the smell and feel of the salt sticking to her sweaty skin. She had only ever been to the Atlantic Ocean before, having lived in Florida her whole life, but the call of the ocean was familiar, tugging at her heart strings. The similarities that each ocean had to her had never been so clear as it was standing on the rocky shore.  
The ocean she knew was almost always warm and inviting, playful even. This body of water before her was all grey and mysterious, and despite it's name, it was the quite opposite of peaceful. 

“Ma’am!” Cree’s voice carried over the wind.  
She turned her head to see him settled behind the small wooden vessel they had hijacked off of a expensive looking yacht, his extra set of arms hidden away from view under a heavy jacket, his solid white eyes the only indicator of his unearthliness.  
“Ready whenever you are?”  
She nodded firmly. Taking one last breath of the salty air, she pulled the handkerchief over her nose, tightening the strings of her jacket hood. Her breath was loud in her ears as she made her way down to the boat, carefully making her way across the rocky shore. Their boat was barely big enough to fit everything and all of them together, worry about having to take two trips crossed her mind. They couldn't afford to take the risk of getting caught on shore all alone. They would just have to risk the tremulous ocean. Had the sea been any rougher, they would never be able to make it to their destination without sinking.  
But it was their only option. 

Everyone was bundled up in the boat already, ready to brave the storm like she was. Her skills of sailing would really be put to the test today. She couldn't let them down.  
Cree helped her push the boat away from shore, cold sea water seeping through the leather boots her socks. She climbed in and started up the tiny engine with several harsh tugs to the ripcord. Cree grimly grabbed onto an oar, their make shift rudder to guide them to the secret base as the puttered off into the fog. 

Paulienne sat with Dylan in the front of the boat, holding a small dagger to his back to remind him of the stakes. Colleen and Matt huddled together in the middle, protecting their equipment and resources from the salty spray. Matt briefly made eye contact with her as they started off before staring ahead.  
This was their first fight over something important. Even in their smallest bouts, they always forgave each other before they made it to bed, but this time Matt didn't even come to bed. They had never argued about a having to take life before, not even their worst of fights could compare to that. It might take time and space to breath and be able to see the other person’s point of view. Even if it was hard. Marisol held back the tired sigh and focused on the difficult task ahead. 

Navigating the sea was something she had grown up doing, her family had taught her to sail all different kinds of boats from the time she could follow simple directions, drilling her on what to do in case anything were to happen while out on the sea, and taking her boaters safety exam even when she knew everything they taught her. She had experienced so many different kinds of storms and rough days on the ocean. Even with that, these were stranger tides, and she was having difficulties driving with the raging waves and the dim lighting.  
She was thankful that they had settled on going during dawn rather than dusk, because it would have been a race against the light to make it without being stranded on the dark ocean. There weren’t any Galra patrols this early, and never as far out as they were going. 

She bent her knees, allowing her body to roll up and down with the tide. Not the roughest waves she had experienced, but still quite a challenge until they made it past the shallows and into the deeper parts of the waters. It wasn’t quite smooth sailing after that, but she could relax more, relying on a rusty compass to guide them to safety. 

The sun was just beginning to rise behind them, the warm rays melting the fog slightly, as they spotted an unusual rock formation in the middle of the water. Marisol looked at the compass, 156 degrees to the west, right on target.  
“Land Ho!” Cree shouted over the wind. For a moment, Marisol wanted to break the tension, a small smile creeping over her face. When he said it like that, she was reminded of how old this creature actually was. He had been on their planet for over 500 years, living from mediaeval Italy to the colonies of America to modern day Mexico. He’s probably said that many times in his long life (especially since he apparently worked on a sailing ship during the 1700’s).  
The others perked up at the sound of land, looking to the strange outcropping of rocks. They approached steadily, Marisol killed the engine just before they bumped the shoreline, the waves helping them ease onto shore.

Paulienne grasped Dylan’s arm, helping him not so gently out of the boat first. She was still very leery of the newcomer, putting him in front of them all in case this was a trap. She took a backpack full of supplies from Matt and Colleen, each of them shouldering one as well. Cree and Marisol pulled the mostly empty boat further on shore, hiding it behind an alcove just in case a stray patrol did happen upon their island. Cree took the remaining two packs despite Marisol’s protests.  
“We’ll need someone to open the door.” He explained before walking ahead of her, Marisol didn’t get his logic, but decided not to argue with the man who was twice her size. 

Marisol worked her way to the front next to Paulienne and Dylan, who remained unbounded but very stressed.  
“Which way?” She asked the boy. He had been so desperate to get them here, now she was going to have to give him some lead, since he was their expert. He started forward grimly, looking around for a path. 

The entrance was on the opposite side of where they had beached, carefully helping one another across the unsteady paths. Colleen made sure that each footstep was secure and that she was in front of Marisol, not wanting a repeat of what had happened last time they had walked an unknown path. Marisol couldn’t help the small smile, she was still looking out for her even after all of their time together. 

Dylan stopped the train of people at a certain spot, a seeming insignificant cut out in the rocks.  
“Alright, this should be it.” He said.  
“Should be? After all the trouble it took us to get here, it better be it.” Paulienne complained, wrapping her arms tighter around her. If she squinted, she could just make out a heavy steel door that blended into the rocks. You wouldn’t have been able to see it if you weren’t looking for it.Marisol strode forward. 

“What sort of hacking do we need to do to get inside?” Colleen was already tugging out her laptop, pulling up a screen with a series of codes and other jargon that she couldn’t begin to understand.  
“Marisol, would you be a dear and hook this up to the padlock?” She handed a long green cable.  
Marisol took it from her and walked it towards the door hidden. She froze at the unusual sight.

“The padlock is smashed!” She called out to her companions.  
“Why would it be smashed?” Matt rounded on Dylan, who yelped as he stumbled back. “I thought you said there were heavy security protocols we had to get through?”  
“It’s a trap.” Paulienne stated, pulling out both of her knives out of her belt and whipped her head towards the boy. “I fucking knew it.”  
“I swear it’s not! I don't know why it's like that?” Dylan cried out, stumbling backwards and crashing into Cree's arms, who looked dissatisfied at the human.  
"I knew we should have killed you when we had the chance!" Matt barely stopped Paulienne from attacking the boy, shouting curses at him as he struggled to hold her back. Dylan tried to move out of Cree's arms, Colleen starting to stand up to stop them.

“Hey!” Marisol shouted as harshly as she could to them before they made up their minds. They looked at her as she pushed on the door slightly with her fingertips and watching it creak open, silent and dark.  
“There’s about a inch layer of dust over the ground and it reeks. If there were people here, there would have been footprints or it would be cleaner.” She looked between her teammates and the stranger, watching as Paulienne finally sheathed her knives and Cree let the boy go.  
“Why don’t you lead the way?” She ushered him forward.  
He swallowed harshly before hiking up the trail, peaking his head inside before walking in.  
Marisol was next, flashlight already in hand, the rest of the team followed suspiciously slow, ready to bolt if needed. 

It was impossibly dark, even the flashlights were almost useless against the black void, dust particles floated around the beams of light. They were in some sort of hallway, Dylan feeling the edges of the walls for something.  
Marisol gripped her knife under her jacket, ready to go at the first possible sign of trouble.  
"Hello?" Cree called out suddenly, Matt hissing at him to be quiet.

"Where's the light switch?" Dylan asked himself as he moved his hands along the walls.  
"They're probably automatic motion sensors." Marisol figured. "Or burnt out from lack of use."  
As if to prove her point, a lightbulb at the far end flickered to life, the artificial lighting gradually making its way down the hall. Marisol lowered her flashlight as white light flooded the hall that they were in. 

"Whoa." Cree said as the five of them looked around at the base.  
It was as impressive as Dylan had claimed it to be, opening to a wide control room at the end of the hall. Marisol made her way towards the room, taking it all in. It was all industrial and cold metal, computer monitors lined the outer circle of the room, leading down to a divot the the middle, obviously for some kind of command chair or person to stand. She stood in the middle of the room, looking back at her team, expectantly looking at her. If they wanted her to start make decisions, then she would have take charge.

"Cree, you and Matt go check out the rooms down that hall." She pointed opposite of where they had come in. "Colleen and Paulienne check out the rooms that we past. Look for any kind of food or technology that we can use. I'll check in here to see if any of the computers work."  
A chorus of "yes ma'am's" followed her instructions as they parted ways, holding her fiancé's gaze for a lingering moment, trying to decide if he was still upset at her. His face was almost impassive, but it was better than the blank stares she had been receiving recently. 

"What about me?" Dylan asked.  
"Sit, I don't want you leaving my eyesight." She commanded firmly as the others left. 

He sat down in a spinning chair, watching her walk from monitor to monitor. She felt his eyes on her, but ignored them until she found a working computer.  
"What?" She asked, looking up from a computer.  
"Nothing, just hard to believe that you're the same girl from my Anthropology class. You were so quiet then, definitely not a dominant figure." He seemed more relaxed now that they were alone. It made sense, but it still threw her. Any stuttering or meekest looks were gone, replaced by the cocky asshole from class.  
"Wasn't my favorite class, I just needed the credits." 

"Hard to believe that it was that long ago, now that the aliens have eradicated colleges and stuff. Back then I was just worried about my scholarships and trying to ask pretty girls out for coffee." His voice changed again, now taking on a flirty tone that grated her nerves.  
Marisol rolled her eyes behind her computer, remembering why she had turned this guy down so manny times.  
"Well, if all goes to plan, we can all worry about those mundane things again." 

"Are you saying yes?" He sounded hopeful.  
"I'm engaged." She shot him down faster than a clay disk.  
"Oh. Is he in a camp or something?"  
"He's closer than you think."  
He kept quiet after that.

Footsteps from down the hall alerted her of the boys' presence.  
"The whole place is empty, looks like no one has been here for a long time." Matt clarified.  
"The food rations are well stocked, we should be set for years if it comes to it."  
"Excellent work." She smiled, rubbing Matt's arm gently, both as a kind gesture to mend bridges and to show Dylan whom she was engaged to.  
Paulienne and Colleen showed up a few minutes later, giving the same report. "All empty, except a complete arsenal of weapons." Paulienne said, a wicked smile growing on her face. The girl had a strange obsession with knives and other lethal pointy objects. 

 

"I guess we should apologize." Colleen said, turning to Dylan, who had shrunk in on himself once more. "We shouldn't have doubted you."  
"No need for apologies, in these times, we need all the help we can get." He waved her off nervously.  
"Anyways." Paulienne said, not wanting to admit her fault. "We should barricade the door somehow. It'd help me sleep better at night, and we can set up camp right here. Colleen can set up her computers and we can get started on your Melding project you've been keeping a secret."  
"Sounds like a plan. Cree and Dylan, why do you bar up the door?"  
"Me?" He asked.  
"Well, you're a part of this team whether you like it or not now." Marisol told him. "Colleen, do you need help with the computers?"  
"If you found one that works, I'll manage." She nodded. "Why don't you and Matt set up the center, I think I saw some blankets and such in one of the rooms?" Colleen suggested, giving a look that made it seem more like a stern request than a question.  
_'Maybe she wants you and Matt to kiss and make up.'_ Marisol thought as they walked down the hall together. 

They found the blankets where Colleen had told them, working in a steady but awkward silence. Grabbing a stack, Marisol sneezed when a particularly big cloud of dust rose up, causing her to drop all of the blankets.  
Matt coughed, but it almost sounded like a laugh to her. 

"Are you laughing at me?" She asked in a joking manner, hoping he would play along.  
"Pft, no. I just thought I heard a mouse, that's all." He sent a side grin her way. She could have cried in relief.  
She grabbed a rolled up blanket and whacked him with it, sending another cloud of dust rising. He sneezed this time, sounding a lot less gracefully than she did, nearly blankets in one go. 

"Here." She set her blankets down and helped pick up his fallen ones. Their hands brushed when they grabbed the same one, but he didn't pull away. In fact, he gripped it tightly within his own. 

"I'm sorry about yesterday." She gently placed her free hand on his shoulders, glad that he didn't turn away.  
"It's fine." His hand gently squeezed hers, not quite dismissively, but not wanting to elaborate either.  
"But it isn't. I know that the threat of killing someone isn't one to be taken lightly, by either parties. It was smart to play it out, but I don't regret take back my decision." She looked him in the eyes. "I would do anything to keep you, and all of those people out there safe."

"You shouldn't have to make those kinds of choices, being a leader is hard. But you are doing amazing, baby. None of us would be here today without your quick thinking and careful planning." He gently moved her hands, stepping closer to press his forehead against her own.  
"Neither of us should be here, we should be arguing over what mortgage to be getting or how many kids we're going to have, not whether or not to kill someone because they might turn us in to the biggest empire in the universe." She said sadly. 

"We'll get there. Just got a few road bumps in our way." He kissed her forehead. "By the way, it's not more than two kids, right?"  
"Aw, you're cute when you're wrong." She patted his face, enjoying the slightly shocked look on his face as she turned around.  
"We are having this discussion soon." He said firmly, turning her around in his arms.  
"Okay." She stood on her toes to kiss his forehead, but he grasped her face again to kiss her fully on the mouth.

"Let's get back, before they think we're banging in the storage closet." She teased as she picked up the blankets.  
"Can we make that detour?" He asked. She snorted and bumped his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens and it goes down. It goes down real quick...

***

By the time they returned and set up the blankets, the door was locked up, the computers were set up, and a lunch of freeze dried foods were ready.  
Colleen whistled to get her son's attention, tossing a bag of something at him.  
"Peas?" He asked with a bit of distain.  
"Your favorite." She teased him while he made a disgusted face.  
"You're confusing me with dad again." He put the peas back in the pack with a small chuckle. "After three months of eating those, I don't think I'll ever eat another vegetable again." 

His mother laughed, patting a spot for the both of them to sit in the circle, grabbing a bag of food from their hodgepodge pile in the middle. The group ate heartily, the first clean, unquestionable food that they've had in months. Even Paulienne had warmed up a bit, recounting a narrow escape from the Galra that she had before she joined their group. 

"Speaking of the Galra, you keep mentioning stopping them, how are you going to do that?" Dylan asked carefully choosing his words.  
"That's their end." Paulienne said through a mouthful of food, pointing at the three of them with her empty fork. "They've got this experiment thingy they won't talk about with the rest of us."  
"Yeah, you just keep saying the Melding, but you never indulge us." Cree agreed as he finished his food.  
Matt and Colleen exchanged glances with Marisol, as if asking permission to talk about it. Marisol sighed and shrugged. No time like the present. 

"The reason that we haven't talked about it is because we haven't had time to properly set it up." Colleen said. "And we're not 100% sure if it'll even work."  
"What?" Paulienne asked darkly.  
"What is it?" Dylan looked around confused.  
"We should give some background before hand." Matt said. "Marisol?"  
Marisol set her food down and wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand. 

"There is a legend, actually not a legend, but a real hero. It's called Voltron."  
"Voltron?" Dylan asked breathlessly.  
"Yes, it's five sentential robotic lions that form a giant robot, taller than any building on Earth. It has lasers and can form weapons that can cut entire Galra ships in half. It's the protector of the universe and has saved millions of lives."  
A snort stopped her.  
"Wait, you're being serious?" Paulienne asked when Marisol gave her a look. "You mean to tell me there's some transformer type guy that flies around space and saves planets? Did you find some kush back in one of those back rooms?" 

"It's not a transformer." Marisol clarified. To be fair, when it was explained out loud, did sound like some cartoon that her nephew and cousins would watch on Saturday mornings, but now was not the time for joking around, especially not about their last hope. "It's advanced technology that Earth hasn't even come close to recreating. The Lions were created by a race called Alteans. They've defeated the Galra before, they've saved countless lives."  
"Well, they've done a great job with helping us!" She said sarcastically, scowling over her bag of food. "If Voltron is as great and powerful as you claim it to be, how come they haven't come to our planet? Especially since those purple bastards have been here for over a year now?" 

"We're not sure." Colleen interjected, placing a grounding hand on her shoulder to hold her back before she did something rash. "Voltron and the Castle can find distress signals, but we're not sure if they got ours, if Earth could even send one out to them. We are quite behind on the universal stage in technology."  
"Wait, now there's a castle too?" Paulienne asked. "Y'all have to be making this up."  
"We're not." Matt said severely. She looked at all three of her companions, so serious they could have stopped the Galra in their tracks.  
"Okay, say I believe this Voltron, what does it have to do with us?" She gave in slightly, at least willing to hear them out.  
"We're gonna call them." Colleen said it like it was the most obvious answer.

"How so?" Cree asked quietly.  
Paulienne gave him a surprised look.  
"I remember hearing a tale as a child about Voltron, but it was believed to be destroyed by Former Emperor Zarkon." He admitted.  
"No," Matt shook his head "The Lions were sent away before he could get his hands on them. It took 10,000 years, but they are able to form Voltron again, it's not a tall tale."  
"How do you know?"  
"My daughter is one of their pilots, so is her brother. They were chosen and have been fighting against the Galra for years now." Colleen explained, gesturing to Marisol. "We've seen it, Marisol and I even flew in one of the Lions. We were all in space with the pilots before the invasion, believe us, we know what we're talking about."

"That doesn't explain how we'll be able to contact it?" Dylan said.  
Colleen paused, looking to Marisol for permission to explain.  
"While we were in space, Marisol's brother went missing. But we were able to find him by a Mind Melding device that can help bond people together. Marisol was the only one to be able to make contact and find her brother. We're hoping to do the same thing again to summon them here. Once here, they'll stop the Galra once and for all." Colleen pulled her bag closer to her, digging around for something.  
"So, like mind reading?" Paulienne asked skeptically.  
Marisol shook her head. "Not quite, more like I can sense where he is and try to communicate with him."  
"Fascinating." Cree said quietly with wide eyes. "So this is what you've been having me help you with?" Colleen nodded.  
"Okay, I guess I'll roll with it." Paulienne agreed begrudgingly after a pause. "If I can accept purple furries that can see every move we make and force us into worldwide slavery, I guess a giant cat robot isn't too far fetched. I still wish it was you guys just tripping though."

Colleen finally pulled out the Mind Meld that they had reconstructed, piecing together the few bits and pieces that couldn't fit together in her bag. It was quite different since they couldn't copy the exact same build with Earth's technology, but they did their best. Rather than a sleek band that wrapped around her head, it was a bulky helmet, like one from Star Wars or something.  
Colleen settled it over her head before standing up to go to her computer.  
"Wait, were doing this now?" Dylan asked. "Shouldn't we wait a night or something?"  
"No time like the present." Marisol stated blandly. "The sooner that they can get here, the sooner we can go back to our lives." 

Marisol settled down on the blankets, rolling one behind her back.  
"So what do we do?" Cree asked.  
"For now, just sit tight. If this doesn't work, we have another idea that will need everyone." Matt explained, grasping her hand tightly. Colleen typed a series of commands into the computers and flipped a switch on the side of the helmet. 

"Whenever you're ready." Colleen gave her a thumbs up.  
With that, Marisol closed her eyes, tuning everything around her down to a dull roar. The tingling was shocking at first, but it felt familiar at the same time. She heard faint gasps, the image of Voltron projecting for everyone to see.  
She started to think about her brother, fond memories surfacing easily. Finding him alive and well, taking a joy ride in the Blue Lion, catching up after being gone for so long. A small smile spread across her face. 

Then she hit a wall. A familiar pain shot down her spine, lighting every nerve ending on fire. 

Marisol choked back a cry of pain, flinging the headgear off with such vigor that she nearly beheaded Paulienne.  
She clutched her bare head, wincing at the pulsing headache that popped up out of nowhere, trying to take deep breaths as she fought back the panic and fear that over came her. For a split second, all she could see were yellow eyes and hear that horrible voice taunting.  
A hand rubbed up and down her flank, drawing her near when she didn't fight back.  
"It's okay baby, you're okay." He helped her take deep breaths to help her calm down, shushing her as her body stopped shaking.

"What the hell was that?" Paulienne asked angrily, probably at the fact that she nearly was struck by the headgear.  
"I don't know, I think there's some kind of wall." Colleen said. "I've never heard of a mental fire wall, but there must have been something blocking the signal from getting out with just you."

"Plan B?" Marisol asked as she regained her cool.  
"Plan B it is." Colleen grabbed another backpack, fiddling around with the stuff in there.  
"What's Plan B?" Cree asked warily as he glanced at the head piece near his feet.  
"One of the things that we were afraid of was that the Galra would be blocking signals from Earth, stopping any chance of a distress signal from reaching Voltron. We believe that we can reach them, but it's going to take more than just one of us." Matt said as he gently released Marisol.  
"That's why there's five of us to create a strong enough connection." Colleen further explained. "Well, six, but we weren't counting on you popping up Dylan."  
"I guess I'll be on standby?" Dylan shrugged, seemingly dazed. 

"So." Colleen pulled out a set of headgears like Marisol had been wearing. "Hopefully it will go through if we work together."  
"No way, I'm not putting that on my head. She flung it off like it electrocuted her." Paulienne protested.  
"That was with one, with five it won't be as bad." Colleen reassured the young lady, but it almost sounded wooden. 

"But why us?" Cree asked softly.  
With that question, Colleen pulled out another machine from her magical bag of technology that she always carried around with her. It looked like a price scanner from a store (mostly because it was before she got a hold of it).  
"It wasn't just a coincidence that we all met. This is a quintessence scanner." She motioned to the device in her hand.  
"What's a quintessence?" Paulienne asked.  
"It's like a life force, your spirit if you will. All of the Lions of Voltron use Quintessence to bond with their pilots, to form together, and probably a billion other things that we don't even understand. Even though we cannot recreate an exact bond, since they are light years away, we had to find someone that mirrored the Paladins close enough."

Colleen turned to the alien in their group with a small smile.  
"Cree, you have similar quintessence to Hunk Garrett, the Yellow Paladin. He is someone who cares about others and willing to risk everything, even those he doesn't know." Marisol thought back to when they first found him, smuggling a family out of Arkansas because they were targeted by the Galra, taking a shot for them and helping them escape.  
Cree looked touched and bashful, looking down at his helmet. "If I can do anything to stop this tyrannical reign, I agree."

"Paulienne, you match up with Keith Kogane, the pilot of the Red Lion. The Red Lion is temperamental but experienced, just like it's Paladin. Just the right amount of skill and patience to meet their goal." Paulienne looked hesitant, looking around the room as if someone else were to take her place.  
"Fine." She grumbled, taking a helmet from Colleen. "But if this shocks me, I'm out."

Colleen turned the machine towards herself, green lighting up the small screen. "I match up with the Green Paladin, my daughter. I'm not that surprised, I wonder if a direct genetics link is in play there." She took the third helmet for herself. 

"Matthew," she turned the machine towards him, watching as it lit up blue. Marisol felt her eyes widen, taken aback by this revelation. The last time they had done the scans, it had shown that Matt's was green and Marisol's was blue. That had been before they had met the others, hell, Marisol had thought that Matt would match up better with the Black Lion before the Blue Lion.  
"How did I...I thought you would..." He said, looking almost apologetic at the reveal.  
"I don't know, but it's not my job to know." She tried to assure her fiancé. It hurt her not being able to match up with her brother, but she wasn't going to let that hurt pride stop her from finding Voltron. 

"So I guess that means I'm the Black Lion." She watched the scanner face turn purple, confirming her suspicions. "But how was I able to reach Lance before, and I could hear the Blue Lion when it flew? Are you sure it's correct?" She went to grab the scanner again, but a gentle hand brought it down.  
"What's so special about the Black Lion?" Paulienne asked.  
"The Black Lion is the head of Voltron, literally and metaphorically. The paladin is usually someone who is trustworthy and strong. All of the Lions are just as important as the others, but they usually follow the Black Lion's lead." Colleen explained.  
"But I'm not really a leader." Marisol claimed. "If anything Matt should be the Black Lion, not me."

"I don't know for sure, I remember Coran telling me that once in a while, albite very rarely, a person's quintessence can change. You have grown to be a strong leader Marisol, you're the one who led us all here today. If anyone in this group is worthy, you are more than worthy to match with the Black Lion."  
"She's right, I would follow you no matter what." Cree said earnestly.  
"You haven't killed us yet." Paulienne actually sounded optimistic.  
"Mari, you are more than qualified to match up with the Black Lion. You are so strong and brave. Shiro would be proud that you have matching quintessence. I am proud." He gently kissed her forehead.  
Both of them missed the dirty look that Dylan sent them before looking away, rubbing his wrist with narrowed eyes.  
Steeling herself, she took the remaining helmet, feeling the weight in her hands. Even though they were all the same, this one felt more like holding an iron ball. 

"Alright, everyone put your helmets on." Colleen instructed, flipping switches and pressing buttons again on all of their headgear. "Instead of thinking about Voltron, I want you to think about the qualities I've told you about. Focus on that, and the Paladins will appear." Colleen reached out her hand for Matt and Marisol, who reached out for Cree, and then extended one of his hands to Paulienne (she made a snide comment about singing camp songs as she held on and grabbed Colleen's free hand).  
"Ready?" 

On the command, they closed their eyes, taking a breath in unison.  
Marisol felt a spark within her head again, traveling down her spine, but this time it felt more like a tingling sensation, like emerging from the ocean to the surface. She distantly heard Paulienne swear as she felt it too. 

She thought of the Head of Voltron, being decisive and honest. Of course, all she thought about was comparing to Shiro.  
Sure they were both leaders, but he was saving the galaxy, all she was doing was making sure they lived to see tomorrow, and it still was barely good enough. She still didn't believe that those qualities could fit her, but for the sake of the world, maybe she could pretend for a few minutes.  
It took a while, just before she was about to open her eyes to ask Colleen to scan her again, she felt her brain stem twinge, feeling the world fade away as she followed the familiar pull once more.

***

_She was falling, opening her eyes right before she landed. She somehow landed gracefully on her feet, a bit weightless feeling to her. Everything was purple and black, bright stars making up unknown constellations around her, like she was trapped in a nebula. There was no rush of outside world or fear of what would happen next, just a state of being. It was so peaceful, she could have stayed there for the rest of her life. But she had a job to do. Just as she was pulling herself back, she heard a low grumble that reverberated through her whole body._

_She turned around to see the Black Lion sitting before her in all of her majesty, yellow eyes shining down at her, making Marisol feel even smaller._  
_"I know I'm not Shiro. Hell, I'm probably not even worthy to have similar quintessence as him or you, but I need your help. If you could let me see Shiro, or anyone from the castle, I need to warn them. It's about home."_

_Black was silent, unmoving and unrelenting._  
_"Please? I need help, I know I'm not your pilot, or a paladin, or really anything to you honestly. But I need Voltron's help. I need your help."  
Still nothing. Marisol felt her spirit plummet, feeling as hopeless for the first time since she saw those ships in the sky. She was so close..._

_"Marisol?"_  
_Breathing a sigh of relief and a quiet thank you to Black, she turned around to see the Black Paladin. The first thing she notices was the hair as white as bone. Last time she had seen him only part of it had been white, how long had they been away? Did the paladins age differently than the others? Once he came closer, she saw that his face was practically the same as when she had left, so maybe he was trying something new? Or maybe something had happened to them too. She felt more towards the latter, looking down to see that his robotic prosthetic had changed too._

_"Shiro, I have never been more glad to see you." She exclaimed, restraining herself from running and giving him a hug, afraid to break the already fragile connection._  
_"What are you doing here? In my head?" He asked, looking around, like he was looking for a door she had entered through._  
_"I'm inside of your head?" Whoops. Hopefully he wasn't in the middle of planning something important or piloting.  
_"Well, no, but I came here when I bonded with my Lion. I don't usually have people show up here." He walked towards her, warming up the longer that she was there. She noticed the past tense in his words. What had happened since they had last seen each other?__

__

_"So this is some kind of alternate reality or something? Cool." She smiled, her face stretching oddly as she grinned for the first time in a very long time._  
_She snapped out of it. What was she doing! She didn't have time to have small talk, the world is in danger and she could feel the connection starting to fray at the edges, she could have sworn she heard pounding on metal._  
_"Listen, I need your help."_  
_"What's wrong?" He discarded his confused look for one of worry._

__The ground beneath her shook. She stumbled in place, but he seemed unaffected, looking around for what had disturbed her._  
"There's not much time, we need Voltron."_

_Crying out and doubling over, a high pitched ringing sound taking over everything, she covered her ears with her hands. She was hearing distant screaming and heavy footsteps that were outside their realm.  
Something was wrong. She needed to get back, but she couldn't leave, not when it was right on the tip of her tongue. _

_"Marisol, what's wrong?" He grasped her shoulders, causing the image to fade slightly. For a moment she heard the yelling of her team members, (_ "You sold us out, you lying piece of shit!" "Look out!" "Somebody get Marisol!"). _Somebody screamed as purple hands tried to grab them, barely able to push back far enough for her to see the purple insignia on their chest plates_

_They found them._  
_"Earth. Voltron. Hurry." She panted out just as the connection shattered into a million pieces, a scream filling her ears._

***

Marisol opened her eyes once more, gasping from the pain of coming back so suddenly. She fought off the urge to vomit as she was shaken back to reality. Matt kneeled above her, trying to wake her up, shouting unknown words at her. As soon as he saw that her eyes were opened, he wrenched the helmet off, sound immediately returning. 

"It's the Galra, they found us. Dylan's ratted us out." The pounding and screaming she had heard in the Mind Meld were very loud and prominent now, blasts ricochetting off the walls. Matt must have dragged her to an empty hallway while she was still out. He helped her stand up, handing her her knife and backpack. "We need to go!"  
"Where are the others?" She asked as she unsheathed the knife and spun it in her hand.  
"Earlier Cree and I found an escape submarine thing on the other side of the building. Hopefully the others are meeting us there."  
The circumstance where the were not there, where they were or if they got captured was left unsaid. Marisol nodded, falling right back into action mode.  
"C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, and they sprinted down the hall. 

At the end of the hall, they came face to face with their mole, leading a Galran commander towards them.  
"The fugitives, just like promised." The prick had the audacity to be smug.  
"You did well, for a human." They admitted. "Surrender yourselves, and you may be shown mercy."

"How about no." Marisol flipped the knife in her hand, flinging it towards the human. It lodged itself between his eyes and he fell where he stood. Matt lunged for the commander as she grabbed her knife.  
She felt a pang inside of her, realizing that she just killed a man. Dread crept up in her as she dislodged the knife, she almost felt sorry for him.  
That was until he reached back for her, knocking the knife out of her hand and across the room. There was no blood pouring out of what should have been a fatal head wound, but Marisol could see the gears and cogs behind the sagging skin, drooping drastically off of one side of his face like something out of a steampunk nightmare.  
"P-P-Please d-d-d-d-d-ont hurt-t-t-t meeeeee-." It screeched in a horrid mechanical voice. Marisol pried herself away with a scream, stomping down on it's face until it stopped screaming. 

She reached back for her knife, narrowly missing the fallen commander's shots. She yelped as she sprinted away, seeing the tail end of Matt's jacket as he raced ahead of her.Matt was screaming for her to hurry. He had reached the door at the end of the hallway, reaching out for her hand to tug her in. She reached out, just a few meters away from him.

Then the hallway exploded. 

Marisol heard a scream, not realizing that it was her own until she slammed into the far wall. The walls and ceiling collapsed around her in a hail of fire, sparks, and debris. She covered her head as more chunks of the ceiling fell down with a rumble, distantly praying that nothing landed on her. She waited until the sounds had calmed down, only the distant sound of boots signaling that she needed to run filling the broken hall. Her body screamed in agony, something wet running down the left side of her face. Once she established that nothing was broken, she crawled to her hands and feet, shoving some of the debris off of her with trembling arms. Her heart fell as she cried out. 

The doorway that Matt had been standing at had collapsed in on itself, wires and sharp metal poles sticking out dangerously.  
"Matt!" She screamed, trying to dig through the rubble, begging to God she didn't find him here.  
She had clawed away, breaking nails and slicing open her hands in the process, to have a small hole only just big enough to see through.  
She sighed in relief when she saw him, looking shaken but alive. The other side had some kind of impenetrable structure that was not even affected from the blast, only some dust and debris that had tumbled from her side. 

"Marisol!" He cried out, seeing her face through the crack. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah. Never better." She grimaced, looking down at her side where the blast had caught her, cut up and bleeding. "You?"  
"Fine, they must have an ion cannon or something." He said mostly to himself as he started to dig through the debris.

"Hang on a minute, I'll dig my way to you."  
"Those are live wires, if you touch them you'll be electrocuted." She warned.  
"Then I'll avoid them!" He reasoned, joining her trying to get through. His efforts made little difference. Another distant rumble sent more slabs of concrete and plaster falling around her, one falling heavily on her foot. She gasped out in pain  
"Mari!" He cried out.

She heard footsteps behind her, the Galra must have made it through the blast, shouting that they found her.  
"Matt, get out of here."  
"No!" He shouted, looking insulted that she would say that.  
"Matt, they're right on top of me, don't let them get you too." She winced. "I got a hold of Shiro, help is on the way." She didn't want to tell him that the message might not have gone through, that it was all for nothing. She needed to give him a little chunk of hope to cling onto. Something to spur him on when she was gone.  
"Marisol! Don't you dare be giving me a goodbye speech. I'm right here, I won't let you go." He could reach a hand through the hole now, grasping onto her.

She kissed the hand gently as the boots rounded the corner.  
"I love you Matthew Holt." She whispered as hands grabbed her, yanking her away from her love. He screamed but had to back away, the sentries trying to dig through to grab him as well.  
_'Please get away.'_ She begged some higher power. _'Don't let them get both of us.'_ She was forced to stand, disregarding her injuries, and frog marched forwards. 

She heard the distant sound of an engine engaging, speeding away and fading into the distance, smiling softly as her team got away. Even if they dug through the rubble, they would only find some empty room with little to no trace of her team. She chuckled at the small victory until some sentry decided it had had enough, ramming the butt of it's gun into her skull, falling into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed, I've been trying to stay off the internet bc I haven't seen the newest season plus I've been figuring out how to make it mesh better with all of the new information we've been getting (this is what I get for planning this back when season 4 came out ;.;).
> 
> Hope you like this chapter. There will be two posted tonight because they flow into each other and the next chapter is more of the fallout than any actual plot.
> 
> Comment and leave kudos if you liked!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did it work?

***

Screaming woke Shiro up from his daze, sounding both feminine and masculine at the same time. He shot forward, arm activated on command and ready to leap out to attack whatever had caused the screaming.  
Blinking hazily, it took him a moment to get out of battle mode, seeing that he was still in his bed in the new castle. He took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart as he reached for his pad, where it must have fallen when he dozed off. He switched to the cameras installed in all of the rooms of the Castle and the Lions (it was an unanimous decision to install them once the whole 'died in my Lion' fiasco happened). 

Shiro had been sorting through files from Olkarion and the rest of the Coalition when he felt in need of a nap, drifting back to his room in a daze. He didn't even remember getting back or falling asleep. It was more common for him to sneak back to his room to catch a couple hours of quiet time, in fact most of the team encouraged it with light teasing. He usually didn't fall asleep though, mostly taking time to center himself, convince himself that he wasn't dreaming and still inside of the Black Lion, unaware of everything happening. He was, in fact, alive and kicking.

He flipped through every angle, finding Coran on the bridge syncing something, Allura using one of the training rooms to work on her Altean magic or something, and everyone else was safe inside of their Lions. No one was fighting anyone.  
So why was there screaming?

“Guys I think my Lion is haunted!” Hunk yelled over the castle-wide intercom, Shiro flinching at the loud volume. Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to calm down, to try to understand what Hunk was screaming about. All of them were having quiet times with their lions, trying to strengthen their bonds. Even though Voltron was running like a well-oiled machine, there was always more to be discovered with their Lions. Nobody disturbed each other during this time, unless there was an attack of course.

“Dude, the Lions can’t be haunted.” Lance spoke up. “Wait, can they?” He asked to no one in particular.  
“I thought a mystical scientific future castleship couldn’t be haunted either but guess who was right about that?” Hunk shot back, his usual calm demeanor falling way to a more scathing tone, as it did when he was truly shook.  
“Hunk, it was never haunted. Just an AI malfunction.” Pidge tried to explain, but she sounded a bit frazzled too.  
“Can you guys open a private link?” Keith asked, grinding his teeth over the coms. “Some of us are actually trying to get stuff done.”

“I was getting stuff done, but then some big dude with four arms just popped up in my Lionscape claiming he had similar quintessence to me. How’s a guy not supposed to freak out about that?”  
“Wait, you saw someone?” Lance asked. “I swore I saw Pidge’s brother Matt for a hot second, but he was gone before I could think too much about it. Thought it was just in my head.”  
“I saw my mom, but it was really hazy.” Pidge interjected.  
“Now that you mention it, I saw an African American girl a little bit ago while bonding." Keith sighed, chiming in with his own experience. "She sounded pissed off but she disappeared before I could ask.”

“So we're all seeing people, what the fresh hell? Are we hallucinating? Hunk did you drug us with those weird purple mushrooms at lunch?” Lance questioned wildly.  
“I would never drug you! On purpose at least...” Hunk tried to defend himself.  


They continued to discuss the possibility of space mushrooms, but Shiro couldn’t help but think back to his time in the Lionscape, a place that he did not go too often anymore, especially with him not piloting a Lion currently. Now that everyone was mentioning it, Shiro did see someone too. It was very blurred and static-y, like trying to tune a television channel, but it was Lance's sister, Marisol. It would make sense to why he heard screaming that sounded too feminine to be any of the others. Last they had heard from her, she had just gotten engaged with Matt, joking about having a space wedding and an Earth wedding. But that had been ages ago, long before the fight with Lotor and their trip to Olkarion to build a new Castleship after the other one had been sacrificed. Pidge had been having problems trying to reach them with her communicator, but with the Galra empire slowly but surely falling apart at the seams, it had been put on the back burner, working on it when she wasn't busy with her Paladin duties or diplomacy trips. 

The dots slowly connecting together. Usually, he didn't remember what he dreamt about, but he remembered seeing Marisol looking very distressed, like he was her last hope.  
“Everyone,” He opened the frequency to the bridge where Coran was, all of them looking up at the where the cameras where stationed with concerned faces. If it was serious enough that Shiro was getting involved, it must be pretty darn serious. “Team meeting. Now.”

***

Everyone sat at attention in their lounge area as the Paladins relayed what they had seen to Coran and Allura. 

“I saw this huge dude, at least seven feet tall, with four arms and white markings all over his skin. He couldn't have been human.” Hunk explained, looking really anxious, like the man would pop up again. Coran nodded as he took notes.  
"That sounds like an Oodian." Coran rubbed his mustache thoughtfully, allowing the others to speak.  
“I saw some girl, dark skin, deadlock hair, but she looked human.” Keith said.  
“Lance and I saw my brother and mom. And Shiro said that he saw Marisol.” Pidge stated. 

“Wait, hold up. You saw my sister?” Lance interrupted them, looking at Shiro like he had just told an inappropriate joke. “Dude, that’s weird!”  
“You saw my brother, Lance.” Pidge corrected him.  
“Yeah, but I didn’t have the hots for your brother.”  
“I did not have the hots for your sister.” Shiro interjected, feeling his collar grow warm. This was definitely not the time to be discussing this, especially since she wasn't really his type (plus he's not a home wrecker, dear God no, Matt is one of his closest friends).  
“Mhhhh, like you weren’t carrying her around like a princess when she was here.”  
“She was dying Lance!”  
“Whatever, I don’t think its a coincidence. Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming about her?”

“Moving on!” Hunk interrupted them, looking to Coran who was still engrossed with his tablet. “So, are the Lions haunted or not?”  
“That would be a negative Number Two, but look at this.” Coran expanded the projection of their Lions, seeing an anomaly on the screens. It looked to them like specks of dust, almost too small to be seen, but they were colored to match the Lion they had appeared around. “It appears there was some artificial quintessence used, from an outside source of all places.”  
Pidge and Hunk nodded, understanding what the older Altean meant, but for the rest of them, it sounded a bit vague. “What does that mean?” Lance asked, biting the bullet to get an understanding for all of the non-geniuses.

Coran gave him a reassuring look as he glanced up from the tablet. “As we all know, the Lions can have multiple pilots and multiple Paladins in control, as long as their quintessence matches up enough and there is somewhat of a bond, such as Keith with the Black Lion or Allura and the Blue Lion. But I have never seen it go so far down the chain of command before. Hunk and Pidge had their secondary's and you three had your third chain.”  
“Does that mean that there are other pilots out there trying to bond with the Lions?” Pidge asked. It wasn't too far of a stretch, since Zarkon had spent ages chasing them around with his connection, but what did it have to do with the people they saw?

“Not necessarily, the Lions still seem to be under your own bonds, but that doesn't mean that similar quintessence can't be used to try to communicate with you four.”  
“It happened while we were bonding, so that makes sense.” Pidge clarified. “But what doesn’t make sense is seeing them. Marisol was able to connect to Lance through their quintessence before, right? Also Keith is the Black Paladin now, so why did Shiro go to the Lion-scape?”

“I might be able to answer that." Allura spoke up. Ever since her trips to Oriande and through the rift, she has been much more knowledgeable with the mystery behind quintessence and with the Lions, even if it sounded like magic wumbo jumbo to the others. "Even with all of the switching of pilots and Lions that we've done, your primary quintessence still matches the order of which I gave to you that first day we met. It can gradually change over time, but in this case, whoever was contacting you meant to contact you, the Lions were merely the catalyst to speak to your five. As for Lance's sister being able to contact, that was because of blood relations, not quintessence. Just because you share the same blood doesn’t mean you share quintessence.”  
“So now that we got the how, let’s get to the why?” Keith asked.

Something in Shiro clicked, the dumb forehead-smack worthy moment that he had wanted to talk with them about. “When I was resting, I didn’t just see Marisol." Shiro said. "I actually spoke with her, even though it wasn't very clear.”  
“What did she say?” Lance asked, leaning forward in anticipation.  
“Most of it was garbled, but I made out Galra, Voltron, and Help.”  
Lance’s face fell immediately, looking around as everyone else responded with wide eyes of understanding.  
Suddenly the lights flashed bright red, the usual color for a distress signal. They stood up in alarm, Coran and Allura rushed to the far wall where they had installed a wall of monitors, reading the stats of the call.

“Whoever it is, they’re going to have to wait.” Lance said harshly.  
“Lance…” Keith started to say.  
“My sister might be in trouble!”  
"Lance," Allura soothed him as gently as possible, "I know you're anxious, but we must be Paladins first. I promise we will check in with her as soon as we can."  
Lance grumbled something under his breath, but waved it off grumpily. "Where is it coming from?"  
“The distress signal is coming from...” Coran hesitated, reading the coordinates again to double check. "Oh Ancients, looks like we won't have to wait for Number Three's Sister." He threw a familiar blue and green planet up on the screen for all to see.  
“Earth.” Shiro muttered, feeling the energy in the room drop dismally. 

Allura immediately strode towards the bridge, ready to open a wormhole and charge in.  
“Wait, this might be a trap?” Keith said hesitantly.  
“My family is there!” Pidge and Lance said at the same time, Keith immediately backing down from the intensity of his teammates' voices.  
“Earth needs our help, it’s our job to protect it.” Shiro said finally. "Get to your Lions."  
Allura nodded and rushed down the hall to open the wormhole, the others raced to their stations, readying themselves for whatever they faced on the other side.

***

Next thing that they knew, they were sailing down towards their planet for the first time in ages, a concoction of excited and dread at what they might find down below. Pidge had managed to scramble the nearby fighters so they could swoop in and assess the situation, turning them invisible to sneak past the cruisers floating above the atmosphere. If it was as bad as they feared, the last outcome they wanted was to alert the Glara of their presence. They couldn't afford a fight so outnumbered.

They tracked down the distress signal to a small outcropping of islands, completely stranded in the middle of the water, emitting from an escape cruiser abandoned on the sandy shore. They circled the islands, just high enough to not be seen from the ground, waiting for Allura to give them the go ahead to land. It still could have been a trap, Allura used Blue's sonic scan to search the island for any signs of life, good or bad.  
“It appears to be three human biorhythms and one extraterrestrial, but no Galra.” An audible sigh of relief floated through the coms as they turned into a nose dive, venturing to see what had summoned them.

The sand rose up in a miniature sandstorm as the Lions landed, the lifeforms ducking to avoid being blinded. Once they had settled, the Paladins checked their bayards and climbed out of their Lions, seeing who had summoned them here. The figures appeared out of the trees, approaching warily, as if ready to run off in the overgrown vines like startled cattle if they made one wrong move.  


“It’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you. We're here to help.” Shiro called out to them as they grew closer, coming to a stop several yards away. “Katie!” A familiar voice called out, all of the Paladins turning to see a familiar face.  
Pidge looked up, immediately breaking out into a smile.  
“Mom! Matt!” She raced forward, embracing the both of them tightly. 

The other figures closed the gap between them as Colleen reunited with her daughter, regarding the rest of the group with cation. The other girl was holding a knife in her hand, ready to fling it if they so much as looked at them wrongly. Once they came into view, Keith lowered his shield, cocking his head in confusion.  
“You’re the girl.” He said softly, looking the girl over, she resembled the girl that Keith had described seeing before.  
“And you’re the boy, how observant we both are.” The girl he had described to them said smartly, pulling a face as her arms aimed her knife away, but still on edge. It could have been a sneer if not for her grasping her dominant shoulder firmly in her arm. "I get the feeling that you guys aren't Galra informants, though you're about smart enough to be." 

The other figure was unharmed, but broke out into a giant grin when he saw them. “You! You’re my quintessence partner!” He strode forward, bringing Hunk into a bone crushing-four armed hug that the others dove out of the way to avoid. Hunk, usually on the giving side of these hugs not the receiving, looked squished and oddly placed.  
“Alright, big scary dude isn’t that scary. Nice to know.” He gently patted his arm until he let him go.  
"I am Cree, it is truly an honor to meet the legendary Paladins of Voltron." He sunk to his knees, sinking slightly in the sand.  
"Oh, um, yeah, that really isn't necessary." Keith said awkwardly shooing him off of his knees. While they were used to having this kind of Godly presence by other species as the Pilots of Voltron, it was stranger for them to be addressed this way on Earth. Especially not by this rag-tag team who looked like they had been through hell and back. Matt was leaning heavily on his mother, eyes dazed in the evening sun, Colleen had a superficial scratch on her neck and the girl was rubbing her arm when she thought no one was looking, all of them looking battered and dirty. Like they had just gotten out of a fight. 

"What happened to you guys?” Keith asked.  
“We were attacked. The Galra found our super secret hideout thanks to _someone_ not keeping an eye on the one suspicious character we had.” The girl glared at the creature as he stood from the sand.  
“Why are you blaming me? We all were not keeping an eye on him, how were we supposed to know that he would betray us?” The gentle giant asked, throwing all four of his hands up in confusion.  
“Because literally everybody said he would!” She yelled, but what she was yelling about didn't make a lick of sense to them. 

“Whoa, slow down. Do you guys mind filling us in?" Shiro asked. How did these strangers know about the Galra and Voltron? Just as important, how had they gotten a hold of them? And why?  
"You mean you don't know about the Galra invading?" Cree said slowly, realization dawning on the four of them.  
The Paladin's eyes widened.  
"There’s Galra here?" 

"They've been here for more than a year now, no thanks to you guys, Legendary Defenders my ass." The girl said scathingly, Colleen shot her a stern look before turning back to her daughter..  
"Mom, what do they mean?"  
"Did you get our messages?" Colleen asked. "We've been sending out messages for ages, but we finally got through with the Mind Meld just hours ago. I'm surprised it even worked."  
Putting the questions of Mind Melds aside, things were starting to make sense. The Lion-scapes, the fuzzy images, Marisol looking petrified at the unknown. What had happened to these guys?  
"It's only been a few months since we last talked." Pidge shook her head.  
"Katie, it's been well over a year since we spoke. Lotor cut off our communication devices just before the invasion.

"Lotor?" Allura asked darkly, bristling at the mention of the most recent betrayal.  
"Yeah, he's the Emperor of the Galra." The girl said with an eye roll, as if they had no idea who the bastard was.  
"I know plenty well who he is." Allura snapped, enough fire in her voice to burn down the Amazon forest, causing the girl to look taken aback, about to send another retort, but Colleen grabbed her uninjured arm. "How did he survive the quintessence field? We left him there to die weeks ago." How long had it taken them to rebuild the Castle? Coran had assured them it would only take a few months, but maybe time moved differently here than it did in space? Or had it truly been a year that they had missed?  
"He is quite alive and well, ruling with a iron clad fist." Cree said. "The Galra cut off all of communications with the outside universe. I am not surprised this is your first time hearing about this."

“Where is Marisol? Did she get out with you guys?” Lance asked, looking around as if she would pop up out of nowhere.  
The girl stopped glaring daggers at Allura, looking back at Colleen almost ashamed, and Cree dropped his gaze from the Paladins.  
Silence was alarming, they knew about Marisol, and they obviously knew something that they did not.

“I’m so sorry honey.” Colleen said tearfully to Lance, Pidge looking up worriedly at seeing her mother crying.  
“What…?”  
“The Galra took her." Matt struggled to meet their eyes, voice wavering with emotion. "When the Galra found us, they shot an Ion Cannon at the base to separate us. She got stuck on the other side of a rubble pile, I tried to dig her out. I had her in my reach, but they took her from me." He finally looked up at Marisol's brother, regret and anguish traced in every feature. "Lance, I’m so—" 

No one saw Lance move. One second he was absorbing the news, swaying slightly in shock where Shiro thought he would have to intervene, the next, with speed that rivaled their Lion's, he lashed out, punching Matt across the face, pinning him down underneath him in the sand when the other man stumbled, ready to strike again. The girl yelled out, dragging out her knife again as she rushed towards them, pulled back at the last second by Cree. 

“Lance!” The other Paladins cried out in shock. Hunk and Keith had to yank him back before he could deal anymore blows.  
“You son of a bitch! You coño! How could you just leave her!” He was still struggling and shouting a string of curses in English and Spanish as they struggled to pull him back. Shiro immediately went to his friend, helping him sit up.  
“Hey hey, look at me.” Even without doing a concussion test, his confused and dazed expression was a dead giveaway that Matt was majorly concussed. His nose was also bleeding profusely from Lance’s attack, wiping it messily on his sleeve.  
“Lance, get back to the castle.” He heard Keith command, as if readying himself for a stern talk, but Lance was already halfway back, his Lion powering up with a mighty roar and shooting into the sky in a streak of red. 

Pidge glanced at her gauntlet, grimacing with how much time they had left until the scrambling wore off. “Lets get you guys back to the castle. We can talk more there, get an understanding of what is going on and try to figure out what to do, does that sound good?" Even if they had protested, they probably would have still drug them after them in fear of being caught and stuck in the same situation as their friend. Shiro tried not to dwell on it as he lifted Matt to his feet, supporting his weight as they stumbled towards Black with Keith. Hunk and the alien boarded his Lion, the girl following closely behind Cree. Pidge was still hugging her mother tightly on the beach, shaken up from the recent events. 

Shiro couldn't help but sigh as he adjusted Matt more firmly onto his shoulder.  
When were they going to stop losing people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the short chapter, but I promise they'll get longer as the plot thickens. This is just a fallout chapter, characters finding out what happened and such, but it's all important to the story. 
> 
> Stay tuned to see what will happen next...


	6. Chapter 6

*** 

Marisol remembered exactly why she hated the color purple. 

The lights flickered sinisterly as the elevator shaft steadily rose through the base, casting a harsh shadow every few seconds over Marisol, her bound hands itching for an opening to escape. One of the robot guards kept the tightest grip on her upper arm, other had it's hand ready on the trigger of it's blaster. She wasn't going to get her opportunity now, now with the heightened security around her presence. Parts of her felt honored with how tense everyone was acting around her, it made her feel like she was something to be scared of  
Despite the dire circumstance, she kept her breathing even and her head held high as the shaft came to a halt, the door opening to a grand throne room, nearly the size of the entire bridge on the Castle of Lions. One of the robotic guards behind her shoved her forward into the throne room, the other still stationed inside. Marisol watched carefully as the elevator left them with a small hiss, counting out the seconds under her breath. The sentry pushed her yet again, forcing her to move across the gigantic room, practically towing her along as her body protested, her injuries screaming with every reluctant step. 

Marisol was not scared. Pissed as hell and ready to throw down even with being injured, but definitely not scared. She had faced this asshat before on her own, (sorta), and nearly turned him into a s’more, and this time she knew that backup was on the way. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be able to do anything before the Lions attacked. All she had to do was be patient.  
He stood with his back to her, staring down at the Earth through the massive windows that encompassed the entirety of the opposite wall. It would have been a beautiful sight of her planet if not for all the Galra battle cruisers floating above and the scorched lands below.  
Clawed nails stopped tapping on his armor, turning his head slightly as they stopped before the throne. 

"Fugitive 126-1584, per your request, sire." The sentry said dryly.  
"Any news on the other fugitives?" His voice sent a small thrill of fear up her spine, but she kept her composure, trying to adjust herself in the iron tight grip.  
"Escaped." She felt her mouth twitch in a small smirk before schooling her face back to her emotionless state. "We are scanning for any trails left by their pod. We have troops searching every square centimeter within a thousand miles of the base."  
"Stand by for detachment to prison sector. I wish to speak to the prisoner myself."  
"Yes sir." The sentry released her arm, the grip bound to leave bruises. She glared at the robot until it left her field of sight, turning back towards him. He waited until the door had shut before turning towards her. 

Lotor hadn't changed much since she had last seen his face. He had a permanent frown across his face and maybe a wrinkle or two from ruling a very rebellious empire, but overall he still was the same pompous bastard, taking his time to strut around her as if inspecting a show dog. Despite him not doing anything, or perhaps because of it, set her on edge. She forced her body to relax, looking straight ahead, to act like him stalking around made her want to scream. Something moving caught her attention, drawing her to a small screen on the arm rest of his throne. A video clip of surveillance played on a loop, grainy and not in color, but she recognized the figures on the screen. Matt, covered from head to toe in black shoved the back door open, (she could recognize her love by the bottom of his shoe from a hundred yards away). Paulienne and Cree rushed out after him, carrying heavy looking bags full of technology and weapons. She herself finally followed after them, looking at the camera with narrowed eyes before pointing the blaster at the screen, firing off a shot before the camera feed went dead, replaying the same footage again.  
That had been their most recent raid of a Galra facility, nearly a month ago just outside of Nevada. The other parts of the screen showed other videos on a loop, CCTV footage of their missions, surrounding a lone photo of Marisol, one from before she knew about Space Lions and hostile purple aliens. How long had he been watching them? 

"So what, you just gonna stand there and stare me down?" Marisol asked as he finally stopped, regarding her for a solid minute like some puzzle that he just couldn’t solve. Turns out he wasn't just the bastard prince, but a drama queen too.  
"I'm just trying to understand how something so insignificant can cause so many problems.” Even though an involuntary instinct of her wanted to shudder at his voice, she held firm. "How did you manage to evade my troops for so long? Luck can only bring you so far, and you are not smarter than I am, so what is your secret?" He stopped in his tracks as Marisol chuckled darkly, shaking her head.  
"Nearly two years to think about what you're going to say to me and that's all you've got? Your word game is weak, Your Highness." 

She was on her hands and knees faster than she could comprehend, although it was through no thought of her own. Her hands clenched into fists as wave after wave of sharp stabbing pains ran up her arms and down her back. She gritted her teeth to hold against the scream as electrocuting amped up even further, trying not to think of what had happened the last time they faced off, the scars on her body still a constant and brutal reminder.  
Her chest heaved once the waves stopped, trying to regain the same calm facade she had adopted earlier, but old memories were slowly picking it apart. A clawed hand forced her to look upwards at him. The bastard had the audacity to smirk at her pain.

"My words may be weak, but my technology is not. The manacles that grace your wrists are now connected to your neurons through micro-electro transmitters imbedded through the cuffs and into your body, growing every single second, which can override and take over any and all movements, controlled by a singular command switch." No wonder being cuffed by some faceless Galra had hurt more than the last time, she had just figured it had just been a while since she was last a prisoner. He flicked his wrist, the slightest shock startling her into sitting up straighter. "My researchers are still looking into this kind of technology, but working with the Champion's and the Blue Paladin's files has made it much easier to develop these for you specifically. It's quite ironic to see how it has turned on you." She tried to pull away from him, but his nails dug in to the weak skin of her cheeks.  
"This is how our conversation is going to work. No quips or remarks, just answers. You will tell me where the other fugitives you were traveling with, as well as all other resistance fighters are on Earth are. If you do not respond or if you give me an undesirable answer, well, you already know the outcome." He grinned sinisterly down at her. "Shall we begin?"  
She kept her jaw closed, glaring daggers at him, trying to stall for time.  
If she could just wait until Voltron showed... 

He let her go to press a button on his wrist, the jolting pain coursing through her again, more powerful than last time knocking the air from her lungs as she withered in place, unable to move from her kneeled position. Her muscles locked up as she arched back. A pained groan managed to escape her mouth, a coppery taste starting to fill her mouth, but she wasn't sure if it was real or just her fried mind misfiring.  
His tight grip on her face returned once the pain stopped, trying not to gasp in pain as his sharp claws broke skin.

"Where is the Fugitive Prisoner 117-9876?”  
"Up your ass and to the left a bit." She grit out, coughing roughly. Another wave rolled over her, sending her spasming and twitching. She tried to will her heart into calming down as he asked the same question. He really should have gone with a different question first, as if she would so easily give up the love of her life so easily. She expressed that thought to him, the next set of electrocution nearly breaking her into screaming in pain, just managing to turn it into a pained whimper as he relented once more.  
"I won't talk. I don't care how much you shock me, I won't give any of them up." She managed to gasp out between breaths, trying to blink the black spots out of her vision. The last thing she wanted was for Lotor to knock her unconscious, leaving her vulnerable.

He looked down at her, the briefest hints of annoyance gracing his face. She allowed herself to celebrate the small victory as she prepared for another jolt of electricity. Instead, he crouched down in front of her, invading her personal space. She tried to pull back, but no matter how much she wanted to move, her body would not budge. Marisol would have much rather him zap her into an oblivion than to have him being so close to her.  
"You're much more talkative this time around. I wonder how long it will be to break you?" His grip tightened the slightest bit, she tried her best to not whimper, a bit of the defiance streak she was riding on dying away. "Will you last as long as your brother did? I have a feeling you might not." He finally let go of her, allowing her to tumble to the floor ungracefully as he stood and strode away from her, looking back out the windows. She tried to regain her composure as small trickles of blood pooled on her face and ran down her chin like bloody tears, glaring at the back of his head.  
It was true she was not the babbling mess that he had seen last time, but now he knew not to underestimate her.

"Guard!"  
Marisol never thought she would be so thrilled to hear him call for the guard. That meant he was done with her. A moment later the sentry from before appeared, hauling her to her unsteady feet. Marisol tried to shake it off, but the iron tight grip threatened to do much worse than leave bruises.  
"Take Fugitive 126-1584 to her cell. Same protocols as the other prisoners. If she talks about anything useful, send her up. If not, maybe her lips will loosen after a round in the arena." He turned his head slightly as he spoke. 

Marisol felt her stomach plummet, her glare wavering as fear clutched an icy grip in her chest. She had only heard about the arena, seen it once through the Mind Meld when experiencing someone else's memories, but that wasn't the same as being thrown in there. A small part, so small that it hardly mattered, begged her to tell the truth, even if she didn't know anymore than he did, but she squashed it down.  
This was a fear tactic. He was trying to bait her into talking.  
She wouldn't fall for it, even if it was true. 

“Yes sir. Shall we set the new course?" The sentry asked.  
Marisol tried to control the horror on her face, but he had seen enough, a smirk spreading across his face.  
"Yes, we'll leave immediately. Don’t want any unwelcome visitors now, do we?” Lotor chuckled, waving them off dismissively. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this!  
Voltron was supposed to be here by now. Lance was supposed to be here.  
This was wrong!  
She dug her heels in as it dragged her away, keeping her eyes on Lotor until the last second possible, the elevator door closing between them.  
He may have won this round, but she wasn't going to give up without a fight. 

Ice cold water sprayed her with the force of a fighter fighter hose, shoving her into the opposite wall. It bruised her skin raw, opening up the shallow wounds that had just scabbed over. Even though they looked like medical professionals and had the tools to suture and bandage her up, she figured that those were just in case she started to bleed out. They wanted her to suffer, but not to die, and she wasn’t reassured by that thought. She gasped through chattering teeth when the freezing water finally stopped, shivering and curling in on herself, nothing to dry her off and the room was just as cold as the shower.  
The medical Galra merely man-handled her into the tight standard prison uniform, just like Matt and Shiro had worn ages ago. It clung to her wet skin, providing no warmth or comfort. 

Despite it all, she held her tongue. It was only the beginning, but they would have to be a lot harder on her for her to give up.  
Unsatisfied with her silence, the medical Galra handed her off to the drones, gripping her arms tightly as they escorted her down countless halls, further into the main ship than she had ever been before. She glanced off to the side, catching a small glimpse of other cells through a window. There must have been thousands upon thousands of cells in this area alone, not even counting the number of prisoners that were on other ships or colonies. How many prisoners did Lotor have here? How many actually survived?  
She could hear other prisoners gather at their doors, eyes of many colors and numbers watching through barred windows as she was paraded past. She could hear whispers in languages she did not understand. It sunk in that she he might have been the only human on this ship. Most of the captured humans when to whatever commander had room on their ship or in their sector of the galaxy. But not her.  
There was something much bigger planned for her, whether it was the arena or not, looming ahead like a storm cloud on the horizon. 

She was shoved into a small room. It was hardly long enough for her to stretch her entire body out, no windows or other light sources. The door closed behind her with a solid clang before she could even think of rushing the guard or making a break for it.  
Marisol looked through the small bared window just for another metal door blocked off her view, throwing the room into complete darkness. 

She stood there, allowing her eyes to adjust and tried to come up with a plan. Maybe she could find a way out of here? She didn’t need Voltron, she was just fine on her own last time, right?  
That was a downright lie, but it spurred her on to trying to find a crack in the door or walls of the cell, an opening of any sorts, but everything was closed off and smooth against her calloused hands.  
The ship gave the tiniest of lurches. It was more than a shudder, but it was startling enough to stop her in her tracks, her fingers clenching into fists. They must have entered a wormhole, just as he had promised. Even without seeing where they had ended up, she knew that she was a long, long ways from home.  
Her message must have not gotten through, that had to be the outcome of their futile attempt. Voltron wouldn't have waited this long to show. Even without a plan, they would have done something, anything that would alerted the Galra. Yet she was the furthest point from anything familiar, with no hope of rescue or that Voltron had even heard them.

What if Lotor had them?  
Her breath caught in her chest, holding back the pained gasp in her throat. It would make sense, with the Galra being on Earth for so long without any resistance, Voltron would not have left them for dead, especially with Pidge and Lance being so family-driven. The only way to stop them was to stop the greatest threat to the Galra Empire. With Voltron gone, any other form of rebellion would have been squashed or driven underground. 

She was on her own.

Reality sinking in, she slunk against the wall opposite of the door, cradling her head in her hands as she curled in on herself, fatigue and pain finally catching up with her.  
Marisol knew that she was being watched even in the pitch black cell, they'd be idiotic to not to, (and they had just proved that they were much smarter than she gave them credit for). She refused to cry, to give them the satisfaction of causing her grief just yet, but she did allowed herself to mourn all of those she was losing.  
Matt, who had to watch her be ripped away from him.  
Her family on Earth, they had no idea if she was even okay.  
Lance, who knew if he was even still alive. 

She would never see any of them again. And she would have to move on from that fact if she was going to survive.

***

The new arrivals were in awe at the new and improved castle, ogling everything like curious children in a museum as they walked through the majestic halls. Even the girl that had given them a hard time earlier couldn't help but marvel at the interior, asking questions about the architecture, which Coran was more than happy to give them a history lesson of the entire castle prior to this one and the entire reconstruction process much to the Paladin’s dismay, (it was the same stories told to diplomats and visitors, the Paladins could recite it by memory at this point, mouthing the words to each other when Coran wasn't looking). 

After the brief tour, they assembled in the medical bay, treating the Rebel's injuries. Matt needed to rest in a healing pod for a varga for his concussion and a couple broken ribs, but he would be fine. Allura and Keith had gone upstairs to figure out the next best course of action, Pidge had muttered something about her laptop, but she had yet to return.

The foreigner, Cree, was the most impressed by this room. "On my home planet, we would use sticks and tree leaves to help heal wounds. This kind of technology was merely a madman's dream." He gaped as he examined an empty healing pod.  
"You're from the planet Ooddam, correct?" Coran asked as he patched his small wounds up, Colleen next on the exam table.  
"Yes, but as a youngling I was sent out to explore new worlds, to travel the Galaxy in search of new places and information.”  
"That's a nice way to put that you got kicked out by his family.” Paulienne, (Colleen had finally introduced the strange girl), said wincing as Hunk helped her sprained shoulder into a sling.  
"Yes, I did have slightly different ideas than my predecessors, but times have changed over the past 500 years. They are a more peaceful society now. Maybe I can go back some day.” He said hesitantly.  
"I remember the days when if you simply looked at an Oodian the wrong way, your head would go in the opposite direction." Coran mined the action with a chuckle. The humans didn't find it as funny as they did though.

Shiro cast a glance over at Lance, who was standing in the doorway of the room, flexing and relaxing his hands around his wrapped knuckles that Allura had helped bandage. Usually he was all about socializing with new people, but ever since returning to the Castle after his outburst, he had been uncharacteristically withdrawn. It was unnerving. Shiro supposed now would be a good time to talk, now that he had time to cool off and the others were occupied. He quietly approached, giving him plenty of berth in case he sprung again.

"Lance?" Shiro gently got his attention. "How's the bandage holding up?"  
Dark blue eyes met his briefly before flitting away to where Matt was resting and back to his hands, obviously ashamed of what he did. Shiro didn’t blame him for being angry, but his reaction was out of character for the Former Blue Paladin and he would be lying if he didn't say that it wasn't worrying him. "You're probably beating yourself up more than what I could say, I just want to know why?" 

"If your sister was on a Galra occupied planet and was just kidnapped minutes before you got there, you'd be angry too." He stared at the ground, scuffing his booted toe against the white floor.  
“But that doesn’t explain why you would launch yourself at Matt. I wouldn’t attack someone who had nothing to do with it, especially if they were an ally and a friend.” 

Lance finally looked up at him, but there was rage behind the dark blues, like the ocean in the midst of a storm.  
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t. The _Garrison's Golden Boy_ would never hurt a fly.” He mocked, his words actually stung a bit. “Jesus, Pidge can literally murder a guy and Keith can wave his knife around and yell at foreign dignitaries, but I get angry and punch someone because he _lost_ my sister to the biggest threat we face and your scolding me for having an usual reaction? Nice to know that you’re still playing favorites, Captain.”  
“Lance, I wasn’t…” He never finished, not quite knowing what he would say to comfort the young man, before Lance spun on his heel and stormed out of the Med-Bay, muttering some obscene words under his breath.  
The room had grown quiet as they watched the scene unfold, but when he turned back, they found themselves busy with whatever was close.

“Coran?”  
“Yes Number One?” The advisor asked, not looking up from checking Colleen’s neck wound (even though he had already treated it).  
“Can the Lion hangars be locked individually?”  
“Yes,” Coran looked up at him. “You don’t think he’d actually risk flying away now?”  
“I’m not sure what’s going through his head, but I don’t want to risk it.”  
Cora nodded. “I’ll send a message up to Allura, she can do it from the control room.” He turned away.

”I’m gonna go talk to him. I think he needs a friendly face right now.” Hunk said, starting to walk towards the door. “Not that you’re not friendly Shiro, you’re like the nicest guy in this room. But Lance is angry with you, going after him might make it seem like you're trying to scold him again.”  
“Of course, that’s a good idea Hunk.” Shiro patted his shoulder as he passed by him, Hunk giving him a small reassuring smile before disappearing down the hall. Shiro leaned against the doorframe Lance had been moments before, pinching the bridge of his nose with his human hand. It was hard to be both their friend and their leader, Keith and Pidge were easier to connect to because he had personal connections to them, but even now after everything they had been through, Lance and him were still on leader/subordinate terms, and scolding him was not helping his case. In this moment of grief, Lance needed a friend more than he needed a leader. 

“Hey,” a small hand on his forearm pulled him away. Colleen smiled tightly up at him, looking much older and tired than Shiro remembered. “Don’t let his words bother you too much. You had nothing to do with this.”  
“So why do I feel responsible?”  
“Because you take on other’s burdens without needing too. Remember when Marisol found about her brother?”  
“She cried, then dumped Nunvil across the table, cussed us out, and stormed off?” Shiro recalled vaguely, (that had been a fuzzy time for him).  
“If anything, this proves that they definitely are siblings.” A sharp exhale out of his nose could have been out of humor, but it felt almost mirthless. “If anyone should feel the responsibility, it should be me.”

Before he could argue that point, saying it was no one’s fault, there was a hissing sound from the other side of the room.  
The hour had finished, glass falling away revealing a healed, but still exhausted looking Matt. He breathed deeply, stepping out of the pod like a newborn deer. He waved off a helping hand from Coran, looking desperately around the room like he was looking for something (someone, he corrected himself). As the truth settled in heavily on his shoulders that what had happened wasn't just a horrible dream, he gasped out as if in pain, shakily stumbling to the stairs next to his pod, shrinking in on himself to block out the world. 

Shiro and Colleen went to him as his shoulders started shaking. Shiro laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly while his mother took his trembling hands and held them tightly in her own. Matt wasn't usually this openly emotional with this many people present, but he didn’t seem to care, body shaking with silent sobs. Cree, Paulienne, and Coran looked slightly awkward, unsure of what to do to help. They decided the best option was to take their leave, claiming they were going to explore other parts of the castle ship, leaving them alone in the Med Bay.

“I had her, I held her hand, and they just took her from me.” He whispered. Colleen gently pulled his hands up to her chest, nodding sadly. “It’s all my fault. I should have gone after her. It should be me on that ship, not her.”  
“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” Colleen reassured him, gently prying one of her hands so it could comb back his unruly hair. He leaned into her touch like a small child. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but was too choked up, a singular tear sliding down her cheek.

“Matt, it would have been so much worse for us if both of you had been captured.” Shiro spoke quietly, grasping for the right words to say to him. “She is strong, much stronger than we were when we were there, she’s going to survive.” “What if they torture her for information about us? What-what if they put her in the arena?” Matt hiccuped before covering his face again, distraught by the mere thought alone.

If she was a fugitive, she would most likely be interrogated about information of rebellion alliances on Earth or where Matt was. Even if she didn't know locations or other logistical info, they might continue to do so just for making fools out of them for so long.  
Matt had just barely escaped the arena and the experimentation that followed, but the Galra still liked to toy with the prisoners before their fate was set, and the prison camps were still harsh environments, if she was taken that route, but it was highly unlikely. As a rebel and a potential bargaining chip against his biggest enemies, he had a dark feeling that Marisol wouldn't be leaving Central Command. Shiro clenched his fist, the silent metal hand a constant reminder of his time with the Druids.  
He wasn’t going to let anyone else face that fate either. 

“She won’t be with them long enough.” Shiro said firmly, Matt and Colleen looking up at him. “We’re going to get her out of there before they hurt her. We’ll get her back.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I love taking month long hiatuses. It's so great...
> 
> But in all seriousness, thank you so much for your support and patience. Hopefully as the school year settles down I'll have more time to post.
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos below!   
> TYSM!

***

It has been days (or felt like days. It was impossible to gauge time while in the complete dark all the time), since Marisol had seen anyone. Even the soldiers and drones had avoided her room. The only sign on life beyond her door was the daily meal, a grey slop that reminded her of mystery meat in her old high school cafeteria, being shoved under the door after a long stretch of time. It hadn’t bothered her at first, she’d rather throw herself out of an airlock than come face to face with Lotor so soon, but the lack of company was starting to make her antsy. 

Marisol had grown up in a large family, had a decent sized friend group growing up, lived in one of the busiest places in the US, and your basic extrovert; she needed some kind of interaction with people, or anything at this point. Even during her trip she had Colleen to listen to her ramblings, or while in hiding Matt and the others were by her side. There was very few instances that she had been completely alone, this silence was deafening, starting to drive her crazy. She had paced the small room, jogged in place, and did random exercises to keep her mind occupied, but it didn’t help the fight or flight instinct going off until she was stir-crazy. So she started talking to herself. Telling stories, praying aloud, singing, whistling, and thinking loudly to fill the empty space. The cell must have been sound-proof, otherwise her neighbors and the guards would have definitely told her to shut up at this point. 

Her wishes of not being alone were finally answered. She was recounting a story about her and her older brother skipped school on his senior skip day to get ice cream to the opposite wall when the door opened. She abruptly shut up and shoved herself to her feet, her scabbing wounds pulling taut with the sudden movement.  
There were too many guards to try to make a run for it, so she let them force her to stand and escorted her out. She thought she was going to get another interrogation session from Lotor, already aching from phantom electric shocks, but they turned her in the opposite direction, into a line of other prisoners. As soon as she was in place they started walking. She crossed her arms the best of her ability to hide her shaking hands, her shackles feeling twice as heavy now. 

The guards corralled them into a much bigger line like cattle being rounded up, more strange creatures filing behind her. It was kind of fascinating, seeing the diversity of aliens among her, she allowed herself to distance herself from the situation to admire the creatures around her. When on board the Castleship, there wasn't time to go sight seeing and Marisol had no part in the diplomatic missions, so her experience with aliens was limited to Alteans and Galra. Being surrounded by hundreds of species was a huge culture shock.  
There were a bunch of aliens that almost looked human, but with qualities like tails and horns and scales. Others she couldn’t even fathom a name for what they resembled, being different shapes and sizes and colors that not even the greatest science fiction writers could imagine. They were just so alien, she felt plain and boring compared to them. If they were not in such a fucked up situation, Marisol could have spent hours looking around and asking them all about where they came from, expanding her limited knowledge of the universe. 

“What’s going on?” Marisol asked, trying to see around the group of people in front of her. They had come to a standstill in a junction in the hall, others murmuring worriedly as they huddled together.  
“You mean you don’t know?” A humanoid looking alien turned towards her, talking out of the corner of her mouth to avoid grabbing the guards attention. They looked human enough, but with wide deep set eyes and a flattened nose, their skin was the color of parchment and they had two antennas protruding out of her head.  
Marisol shook her head, not quite sure she wanted to hear the answer.  
“This is where they sort us. Depending on how you did during the isolation period, you will be sorted into one of two groups; workers or fighters. The workers mine for valuable minerals and do labor on the prisoned planets, but the fighters-”  
“Go to the arena?” Marisol finished for them. 

They nodded grimly. “The fighters are given a single weapon to fight to the death, to try to win their way up to be the next Champion.”  
“Champion?” Why did that sound familiar?  
“They’re supposedly an undefeated fighter the Galra had many deca-phoebs ago. No one has been able to defeat his record, though many have tried. Even though he was a fragile human, he was ruthless and bloodthirsty in the ring.” Marisol felt the hair on the back of her neck stand, knowing exactly where she had heard that nickname from. It wasn’t hard to imagine Shiro fighting, having seen him in action with her own eyes, but him to be described as ruthless or bloodthirsty made her skin crawl.  
If she could make it to the workers, then she’d have a chance to get away. But if she was chosen for the ring…

“What do they call you?” They asked her as they shuffled forward, seeing the line of guards at the end of the hall, directing the prisoners where to go. Most were directed to the right hand side of the hall, but one or two would be sent down the left.  
“Marisol. My name is Marisol.” She answered quietly.  
“You do not have a standard number?” They asked astonished.  
“What?" Oh, they were asking for the prisoner number Lotor had been calling her. "No, I do. But I refuse to conform to them more than I have to.”  
“Then you are far braver than I am. I will remember your name.” The being shuddered as they were pushed forward, next to be judged. The guard looked at a holographic list, scanning her identity to find her identification number. 871-4953, the guard pointed them down to the right. The humanoid creature sighed, almost relived as they walked down the hall. Marisol squared her shoulders as her turn came.

The guard identified her but her holographic ID card looked different than the others around hers. Instead of being a dull purple color, hers was marked in red. The guard grinned sinisterly underneath his mask.  
“So you’re the special case? Huh, I wouldn’t put a wager on you.” He swept his arm to the left, her stomach plummeting in fear.  
She couldn’t move, her fight or flight response had completely shut down, leaving her the only option of freezing, trying not to vomit in front of all of the other prisoners. It wasn’t until a drone shoved her, the line moving for the next person to take her place, that she stumbled down the hall.  
Her legs weren’t responding properly as she was all but dragged down the corridor, feeling as if her shoes were lined with wet sand, her mouth like the Sahara Desert. 

There was a small room at the end of the hall, a couple other frightened aliens lined up to a giant door, she could only guess where it went. The guards must have recognized her, scoffing and shaking their heads, probably thinking why the other guard had vocalized. They forced her into the front of the line and the small group moved forward, until they came to stop before the giant doors. 

She made no point to hide her shaking hands or the shuddering in her breath, everyone else around her was just as petrified.  
Sure she had fought before, hell, she took on the crown prince himself and had won, (sorta), but this time was different. She wasn’t practicing, so no way to shut off the battle if it became too difficult, and she was completely alone, having to fight for her life without Voltron or any of her teammates to back her up. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run away, to vomit, to pass out— anything to remove her from the current fate she was about to face. She could hear the faint yelling and cheering beyond the metal doors, both out of entertainment and out of awe, just barely masking the terrified screaming from one of the participants.  
Marisol closed her eyes as the voices all started chanting simultaneously, _‘Finish it!’_

Roars erupted almost instantly, the final move dealt. 

Marisol opened her eyes, unconsciously muttering the Hail Mary under her breath. A heavy hand moved to her back, shoving her unceremoniously forwards. It was her turn. She would give up. She was going to fight tooth and nail until she could no longer move to defend herself, but she had to make amends just in case the worst happened. She prayed for her family, for Matt especially.  
Even if she never saw him again, she knew he was going to keep shining like the star he was. He would save the universe, she knew deep down that he could do it with or without Voltron or their coalition. He would grieve but he would move on and live his life, defending the universe with his new-found family. He would live out a full life and die an old, happy man. Not standing in this arena, dying as a martyr. She would just have to accept her fate and pray that she would see Matt in heaven.

The aliens around her looked just as petrified as they stared at the massive doors opening, a lone guard carrying a broad sword in their grip, blood still dripping off of the blade. Marisol had no idea that blood could be a different color, the white fluids dripping to the sandy floor. She tried to ignore the blood still fresh and dripping off of the sword as she reached to take it. It looked so heavy. Would she be able to lift it, let alone fight with it? 

The Galran guard stopped her, yanking the sword out of her loose grip.  
“Idiot. Remember what the Emperor said. This is the special case.” He hissed as he pulled something from the wall behind him, whipping it out to reveal a slender staff. It was very similar to the Altean one she weld before, but it was made of dark metal with a sharp end, purple lights instead of blue. She took it from him, the familiar weight heavy in her hand once more. The guard then shoved her forward, onto the ramp that led to the ring.  
“If she doesn’t make it, deliver the staff to Emperor Lotor himself.” He commanded the drone as the door shut behind her, leaving her alone with the gladiator ring before her. She carefully marched her way up the sandy slope, hearing the crowd grow louder with every step she took. Her clammy hands gripped the staff even tighter, trying to get back into a fighting mode as she marched towards her doom. 

The ring resembled the pictures of the ones that the ancient Romans had fought in, only darker and much, much larger. The crowd was absolutely deafening, throwing her off kilter. Looking around, she saw her terrified expression on the massive projection high up in the ceiling, similar to a megaton television in a football stadium, exposing her fear to the entire audience. Marisol tried to not gag at the stench of fresh blood and death, still evident from the last battle, looking around the ring to find exactly who she was supposed to be fighting. Her opponent was across the ring, throwing glares towards her, probably already assessing the new meat.  
Marisol forced herself to breathe and do the same. 

Her opponent was much larger than herself, taller than any man she knew, and twice the size of pure muscle and black fur. They had four arms like Cree, but razor sharp claws protruded from the tips of their fingers. Their grin was full of sharp teeth, their black eyes small and beady.  
_‘Okay,’_ She could hear Matt’s voice in the back of her head, addressing the situation just as calmly as if this was just another training session. _‘They’ve got claws, stay back from those. But their face is small, they can’t probably see well with such small eyes. Do not try hand-to-hand, they will crush you. Long range with your staff should do just fine. A staff to the face would daze them long enough to land a couple blows. Weak spot on their neck, but you’d have to wait for an opening...’_  
A harsh blowing horn threw her out of her thoughts abruptly, her opponent already charging towards her with a bellowing cry.

Marisol sunk into a defensive position, the familiar stance bringing her back to her training. Once her opponent was close enough, Marisol dove out of the way, crawling back to her feet and whacked the back of it’s head, using the blunt end rather than the sharp end. It angered them more than anything, like a kitten trying to face off a bear, roaring as they faced her again. They lunged for her again, knocking her to the ground, forcing the wind from her and her staff fell from her grip. The creature roared as Marisol kicked out, landing a blow to their face with her foot, scrambling as they shook their head clear. Marisol barely grab onto her staff before a hand grabbed the back of her tunic, ripping as claws shredded the fabric. With hardly any strength, the creature threw Marisol like a rag doll, the staff flying out of her grip. She tried to tuck and roll out of it, skidding to a halt on her feet.   
The audience was going wild, they must have expected her to be torn apart within moments of entering.

She had to dive out of the way again as they charged again, incredibly fast despite their lumbering stature. She dove again when they spun around, reminding her of a bull. The creature was having a hard time turning as Marisol continued to pounce out of the way, this time straight into the wall, their head ringing as they slammed head first into the dark stone. She could feel the crowd buzzing with excitement as she hurried out of the way.  
As she ran backwards, she saw the staff laying near their feet, shaking their head in confusion as they searched for her.  
Her body reacted before her mind could come up with a solid plan, rushing her opponent. Their cry thundered across the ring, meeting her head-on in their intense game of chicken. Marisol sped up, the blood roaring in her ears covering up the chanting the crowd had taken up. At the very last second, Marisol shifted her weight back and on her leg, allowing her momentum to slide her underneath her opponent's legs untouched. They still charged forwards while she ducked out of reach, grabbing the staff and jumping back to her feet. The crowd was cheering loudly once more, screaming her number as she lunged forwards.

Marisol spun her staff until she could get a firm hold, seeing an opening when they reared back to strike, all four arms pulled back. Marisol drove the staff flat-end into their face.  
They screeched as she crawled up to her feet. The audience was nearly deafening once more as she landing another couple blows before they could regain their composure again. One of her blows sliced across their back, Marisol freezing as dark black blood splattered her. She hadn't meant to hit them with that side. She knew exactly what that end was for, but her last act of defiance was to not use it. She would not kill her opponent, no matter how hard they were trying to put her down. Maybe if neither of them killed each other, then they would call a draw. Maybe no one would have to die.

Her moment was taken advantage of. Her opponent grabbed for her, wicked sharp claws extended with a hefty roar. Marisol screamed as her shoulder was torn open, the unexpected pain blinding her. The audience gasped in awe, switching sides once more as their favorite lost the momentum. Marisol tried to blink past the pain and regain her stance, blood pooling in the uniform and dripping down her arm. She barely had anytime to recover before her opponent was on top of her again, pinning her to the sand by her throat. Her staff knocked away once more, but this time it was well out of her reach. The crowd was chanting again, but not for her. In the end, she was just another nameless gladiator to enter and die in the ring, the entertainment to satisfy the bloodthirsty nature of the Galra. Her hands futilely scratched the furred arm holding her throat and her legs lashed out, but they held firm.

This is the end.  
No life flashing before her eyes, no seeing her _great-abueitla_ before her, no pearly gates opened wide for her, not even a sense of peace— just her rapid heartbeat in her ears as she watched the sharpened claws rearing back, ready to satisfy the audience with another kill. Marisol closed her eyes. Her last thought was the fleeting hope that it was quick.

Then it stopped, feeling the claws brush the tip of her nose.

“You’re not fighting back?”  
Marisol opened her eyes, the creature looking down confused rather than the enraged beast that was ready to claw her throat out just moments ago. The expression was so innocent and genuine, she couldn't help the breathless chuckle escape her like a madman.  
“You’re not going to fight back.” They repeated themselves, even more confused at her crazed reaction, claws retracting slightly. Marisol didn’t answer right away, using the smallest gap to try to draw air back into her lungs.  
"I-I don't want to kill. I never killed anyone before." She managed to gasp out.  
The creature before her went through several facial expressions. Confusion, anger, sadness, maybe even pity as she slowly loosened her grip, Marisol sucking oxygen back into her lungs greedily. Once she wasn't gasping, her opponent helped her stand up, righting her as they faced the audience.

The creature spun around, looking up towards a section that was boxed much higher than the rest of the seating. That must have been the dignitaries box, where Emperor Lotor probably was siting now.  
“I refuse to kill my opponent. She did not ask to be a gladiator, and I refuse to kill when they won't fight back.” With that they retracted their claws, laying down all four arms in a show of peace. The crowd roared again, but this time they sounded angry, frustrated that they weren’t getting a bloodbath.  
Her eyes glanced to the screen above them. She could see Lotor’s outline, the full view blocked by a dark screen, rigid in anger. He turned his head to a person standing next to him and nodded once.  
Almost immediately guards and drones alike flooded the arena, circling them together. Was that the end? Maybe the Galra did respect their decision and no one would have to die. 

But it was never that easy.

Electric pain climbed up her arms, crying out from the sudden feeling. She bent over to protect herself, but then she was moving without mental command. Marisol didn’t even register that she had spun her staff around until her opponent made a straggled sound, the sharp end of her staff finding it’s mark in a soft spot in their neck.  
The opponent gargled as dark blood trickling down the raised staff to her hands and arms. She was covered with a spray from the intensity of her blow to their weak spot, dripping down her face and neck. Marisol’s face of horror filled the screen above her, mouth open in a silent scream, but the crowd was cheering, oblivious to the violent scene. They slowly fell off of the pointed end and landed on the ground in a heap. Her merciful opponent did not move.

The lights inside of the ring were turned off as the dim lights over the crowd slowly brightened. The bystanders were ushered out by drones, making their way out unhurried like, disgruntled that there were no more fights. The guards who had entered the ring used the distraction to grab her, roughly dragged her back off of the arena floor. She screamed and fought against the bruising grips, as if she could break free and help her opponent who still lay in the middle of the sand unmoving. More drones were brought out to carry the massive body away, and Marisol couldn’t tear her eyes away until she was brought to a tight corner that blocked her view. Not before she saw their glassy, beady eyes staring blankly right through her soul. 

***

The guards hadn't taken her back to her cell, instead bringing her back to where she had waited for her fate, this time there were no prisoners, just a singular Galra dressed in something like a doctor's coat, a wide array of tools laid out on a small table. She felt the numb wave of shock starting to take effect, leaving her useless as they man-handled her into a chair and left her with the medical professional. Marisol curled uncomfortably in the seat, trying not to cry out from the antiseptic used on her wounds, her shoulder was sutured and cleaned. The Galra doctor either didn’t mind or didn’t care about her squirming, treating her wound with a tough professionalism. Her ribs ached, probably cracked from being flung around, and various other bruises and cuts smarted, especially the ones around her neck. They left those marks alone, and as soon as she was patched up they left her behind, the door closing behind them.

The staff lay across her lap where the guards had thrown it as they left, the blood still drying along the shaft. Parts of Marisol wanted to look away from it, or to fling it across the room, but she couldn’t find the strength to do anything but look down at what she had done.  
She didn’t even flinch when the door slid open, heavy boots walking in unannounced. She figured it was the guards again, not bothering to look up even when she wasn’t immediately grabbed.

“Do you like the staff?” A snide voice brought her out of her stupor.  
Lotor stood above her, looking at her the same way a tired parent looked at an insolent child. “I wanted to put an electrical current within the staff like the previous one, but the engineers have yet to find a way. I wish we had whomever built your staff.” Marisol swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth, still looking at the weapon in her lap. The weapon that made her kill.

“Did you really think you could get away from a fight without getting blood on your hands?” He asked coldly, a smirk spreading as Marisol flinched and drew in even further on herself. “I had a feeling that you would would refuse to kill, so I had the modification made to your wrist cuffs to connect to your staff. Though Grutta refusing to kill was a surprise, everything else went according to plan.”  
Marisol closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling. Had he not said their name, she could have pretended that it was just a drone that she killed, like the one back on the base. But they had a name, probably a whole life before becoming a gladiator, and Marisol had just carelessly ripped it away from them. 

“What do you want from me?” Marisol asked roughly, opening her eyes to look at the weapon in her hands once more.  
“I wanted to see what you could do if you had the right tools, and a guiding hand when necessary.” He motioned to her wristbands. “This was a test to see how far you were willing to go. Which leads me to why I sought you out.”  
“I don’t know anything about the rebels on Earth, or where they are.” Marisol said quietly.

“Good, because I already have their location, as well as your family on Earth.” Marisol felt her eyes widen, looking up finally at her captor, the smirk had grown cruel and demeaning. He had known where they were this whole time? Was this was all a test? “But no harm will come to them if you do exactly as I say.”  
“What?” She meant it to come out as a snarl, but with her pathetic voice it sounded more like a plea.  
“Defeat the record and comply with everything that we need from you. As long as you fight, no harm will come to your friends and family.”

Marisol felt her back go ramrod straight in realization. “You want me to become the new Champion?”

“Of course we’ll have to come up with a new name for you, but essentially yes. I want to harness that rage within and turn you into the most feared gladiator ever born from the ring. You will become our greatest weapon.” His hand came to her face, forcing her to look up at him, no claws digging in this time, just one dragging across the sticky blood along her cheek. “And if you behave, you might get to see your family once again.”

Marisol swallowed harshly, as if she had swallowed a brick. It was kill or have everyone she ever loved be killed. He had backed her into a corner like an animal and the only way out was the one that went against everything she stood for.  
The Matt voice in the back of her head told her to tell Lotor to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, that he had to be lying in order to try to reign her in, but what if he wasn't bluffing? He had yet to lie to her or to not follow through with his promises. If she disobeyed, he would hurt the few people that she cared about left. He stood silently above her, patiently waiting for her response. She had to make a decision, or he would make it for her.

“How many?” She looked away from him, keeping him in her line of sight.   
Lotor tilted his head, waiting for her to elaborate.  
“How many battles to become the next Champion?”  
“174 was his record before he ran off.” Lotor had a smug grin over his face, already knowing which option she was going with.  
“Then I only have 174 more battles to go.” Marisol felt something fall away, like a snake shedding it’s old skin for something newer, something better (or much, much worse).  
“So you do, Prodigy.” His grasp turned into a stroking motion, pushing her hair out of her face. She wanted to feel sick and pull away from him, but all she felt was numbness.

*** 

That night, she prayed that the walls of her cell were soundproof, otherwise the entire complex would have heard the screams of anguish that tore their way out of her throat until she was left with nothing. Nothing but the silence.


	8. Chapter 8

***

The headquarters was hardly ever quiet.   
There was usually some kind of noise going on, heavy metallic footsteps of the sentries walking past on their rotation, something dripping from a leaky faucet that every room had for bathing and drinking purposes, guards talking about the newest commanders and the latest gossip from the fringes of the galaxy, even more rare were the sounds of other prisoners, usually the ones still fighting the guards as they were dragged off to battle (or coming back from one), or weeping and groaning from injuries sustained during their battle. Those ones didn’t last very long and they would lapse back into the dull noises of the prison. It made the wait antagonizing, counting the seconds of silence between each sound until it was time. 

They had moved Marisol down to the barracks of the ship where the other fighters were housed after several matches, once she had proved that she was worthy of the title gladiator. Each one of them had a different cell, hardly much bigger than the ones above, but there was flowing water and a half-decent cot. They were usually separated to stop any conspiring from happening between fighters, anything that could throw a match or start a riot was eliminated by their privacy, although sometimes they would throw two particularly feisty, unevenly matched competitors together to dissuade any chance of friendliness between them and reprieve the guards of boredom, the screams of the wounded, flesh tearing and blood spattering across the cold metal echoed down the halls until there was deafening silence once more. 

Marisol had grown used to the quiet, even longed for it most of the time. It was much better to be laying in the dark not listening to one of the competitors whimper and cry from their injuries or their fear until it tapered off into nothingness.   
The arena was so loud, the audience rooting for their favorites, and she was the current underdog. Each fight that she did not succumb to, even if it was a close call, put her higher and higher in the favor of the crowd. It also put a huge target on her back. At first whispers had spread about favoritism from the Emperor, how someone as weak as her must have had some kind of pull from a higher authority, usually followed by threats to end her streak in the next round of fighting. Now, they usually whispered her title followed by her latest victory. It was sickening to be proving them wrong, to kill to prove her worth, but this was the level she had sunk to, all of it would be manageable if her family got out of this alive.

She lay on the cot, running her fingers along her torso to trace her newest scars, long sharp lines running down her side. Her latest opponent had been the hardest yet battle. She had faced so many different creatures that it made her head spin, each one with their own set of challenges and way to fight, but she had never faced off a Galra before. 

This one was in the same prisoner garb she wore, but his nearly hung off of his once powerful form, weakened by starvation and torture. His purple fur was shaved so close to the skin she had been able to see the wicked scars that ran across his face and head, one ear mangled so awful. Marisol wondered what he could have done to be forced into torture and fighting. 

He had fought admirably, nearly besting her several times, but the cuffs that she wore helped her out of the tight corners.   
Marisol had him pinned beneath her when he spoke the words that sent her head spinning. If it hadn’t been for the cuffs, she might have dropped the staff itself. 

“You look just like the Blue Paladin.”

She couldn’t see her ashen face on the screen above her, but in that moment the crowd saw just how human she was. Just how vulnerable she was. She couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, especially not now. Her muscles started to twitch, a telltale sign of the cuffs sending impulses to her brain- kill kill kill.

The Galra gasped loudly as she stepped back from him, trembling with the effort to keep still. How did this prisoner know Lance?

“You know my brother?” This was not the place to stage an question, with every nerve in her body alight with the need to move, to deal the final blow.  
“I worked along side of him and the other Paladins on a mission many phoebs ago. He’s a good soldier and an excellent shot.”   
“How many?” If she remembered the very brief lesson of Altean, a phoeb was the closest thing to a month as they could translate.   
“I do not know.” He gasped as she moved forwards, the sharp end just inches away from his face.   
“Is my brother still alive?” It took every fiber in her being to fight back against the growing pain racing up and down her back, to hold still long enough for him to answer. “Please? Is he alive?”  
He looked up at her, his dark eyes full of pity. He must have understood that she did not want to do this, hands trembling as she fought the urge to let go. His mouth opened to reply…

Marisol screamed in agony as the staff found its mark in his chest. He gurgled on the rush of blood as she pulled it out, finally collapsing to her hands and knees besides them. The pain did not die down, in fact it grew more powerful as she laid on the ground. Her body was still twitching as the guards came to fetch her, dragging her out like a corpse as she lost focus of the arena, her world dimmed to a white blur. 

She didn’t even realize that she was back in her cell until much later, still huddled on the floor pathetically where the guards must have dropped her. When she wasn’t substantially injured, she was taken back to her cell, given a dose of something bright gold that tasted like ash that healed her wounds into scars, but that was more of a precautionary measure against infections than them caring about her well being. She preferred these kinds fights. 

The feeling returned to her body gradually. Once aware of the feeling in her arms, Marisol barely had the strength to heave herself up to the cot, desperately trying not to vomit up her only meal of the day, and laid down with half of her body still numb to any and all feeling. She traced the marks through the gaps in her uniform, still reeling from her fight. 

This was not the first time that she had lost control of her body. The last time it had happened to this degree was during a failed escape attempt, when Lotor had summoned her to the Throne Room to speak about her recent string of victories. As soon as she realized where they were taking her, she had fought off the singular guard until he released her. She hadn’t gotten more than a few yards away when she lost all feeling in her legs, tumbling down like a fallen tree.   
The guard drug her up to the Throne Room, where Lotor berated her and forced her to apologize to them for trying to run before he flicked his wrist, all of the numbness fading away. (Not only had it been humiliating, but Lotor had threatened her lowly, promising that if she ever tried to escape again, he would personally cut off all of her family’s fingers and force Marisol to watch.) She had not dared to try anything after that.

Her toes had just begun to feel again when her door opened with a small hiss. Marisol barely had time to glance over to see her visitor before her body was forcibly standing up from the cot, kneeling and staring at the ground against her own will. She was only ever forced like this when someone of decent standing paid her a visit. She had a feeling of who it was, concerning her most recent fight. She was a bit surprised it took him this long to stomp his way down here. 

“Stand up Prodigy, we have business elsewhere.” Lotor did not sound happy, fighting the urge to feel pleased with herself. Like a puppet on a string, she shakily stood up again. Her hands clasped in front of her as the cuffs turned into manacles. There were no guards accompanying them, the Emperor never went anywhere without any source of back up. Not like she could actually stand against him anyways, he had the upper hand at all times. 

Marisol stood ram-rod straight as they walked, even after the control wore off, staring ahead blankly. Something was different about this time, not just the fact that the Emperor was walking her to wherever she needed to go, but he wasn’t gloating about his most recent conquest on Earth or dropping cryptic bits of information about her family. She wasn’t the only one to notice. Generals and soldiers alike were passing glances at the pair of them, silently wondering what was happening. It set her teeth on edge, waiting for him to say something. 

The silence gave her a moment to look around the base. The last time she had been present on the main ship, there weren’t any guards or other Galra. She hadn’t really gotten a chance to look at them properly. They seemed…normal? She could have easily placed any human soldier in their place and not see any difference. Several walked around with holo-pads with strategies and the newest shipment of whatever, others merely chatted idly with each other. It was odd seeing them not violent or so blood thirsty, almost as if they were just living their lives like any other being would.   
She shook her head at that thought. Galra, no matter how relaxed or innocent they looked, were dangerous. They were the same race that took over her planet and millions of others. The same race that killed off Coran and Allura’s race, that hurt those closest to her. The moment she started to feel sorry for them was the same moment that she would lose herself. 

The elevator door opened silently, Marisol ushered in by a hand on her shoulder blade. She tried not to jolt at the sudden contact. The spot where his hand lay only moments before tingled, almost as if trying to draw him back in. She kept her glare forwards as the elevator shifted downwards, watching the purple lights flash through the crack in the door as they descended. 

“Why so jumpy?” Lotor asked her softly.   
She didn’t respond, trying her hardest not to grind her teeth in an effort to stay silent.   
“Are you not used to being touched?” He turned towards her. “I’ve been doing research on humans, there is plenty of works out there to read. You humans have a thing about physical touch, especially with one another. It’s quite incremental to your development.” He took a step closer to her. Marisol almost shifted into the closeness, surprising both of them. She did not want to touch him in the slightest, yet here she was, hair standing on end as if to reach across the distance, seeking out any form of closeness with another body, even if it was the same person who was enslaving her. 

“I wonder how long it can go on before biology will have you craving the slightest touch, or if it is already happening…” His hand returned to her upper back, ghosting over her rags, nearly causing her to shiver. His voice was purely analytical and curious, as if she were his science experiment than a human being.  
“Stop.” She said roughly.   
“Stop what?” He asked innocently, firmly making contact with her back with a sense of victory in his voice. “It seems like your body is relishing in the physical contact. When the last time you were properly touched? Was it on Earth with your family?” His hand started to move around her shoulder, moving from fabric to the spandex material near her collar bone. “Was it with your lover? I wonder how he used to touch you…” 

She reacted before she could stop herself. Her hand made contact with his throat, slamming him into the side of the elevator with enough force to make the metal wall ring. He seemed almost as surprised as she was, yellow eyes widened in shock.   
“The only time I will touch you is when I snap your neck and watch the life drain out of your eyes.” Marisol growled in a dark voice that ripped it’s way out of her vocal chords. 

Despite being pinned to the wall, Lotor chuckled, as if pleased with her reaction. He waved his hand, watching with a satisfied grin as she moved away from him, each move jerking her away until she was against the opposite wall, hands pinned down and her neck bared in a sign of defeat. She snarled, nearly biting a hole through her tongue as her mouth was forced shut. The Emperor shook out his arms and readjusted his uniform, more inconvenienced than harmed to her dismay.   
“What an odd reaction, I wasn’t expecting it. Perhaps it was smart that I chose not to bring a sentry along. Wouldn’t want you to damage one of my own, now would I?” He walked over, towering above her more so than usual.   
“Such a shame, I was considering letting you see your family after our business was finished. I suppose I will just have to pay them a visit myself.” 

She nearly whimpered. Nearly.   
“Oh don’t worry, this little outburst won’t affect them now. I would be more worried about your fate after that stunt you pulled in the Ring today.” He stepped well over the line of personal boundaries, looking down at her almost scrutinizingly. “Why did you hesitate to kill?”  
“Where is my brother?” Marisol asked once her mouth was free to speak.   
“Your brother is in my care, along with his wife…”  
“No. Not him. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” She somehow managed to turn her head, staring him down. “Where is Lance?”  
“Haven’t you guessed by now? Voltron isn’t coming to save you. They were taken care of ages ago, long before you arrived. The quintessence field was too much for them.”

She closed her eyes, briefly remembering back to the fight earlier, when she had been on the ground next to her opponent. His last words that he managed to strangle out were hardly more than a whisper, unnoticed by the crowd or any other prying eyes. Those few words that had given her so much hope.   
“Your brother is dead.” He practically spit the words into her ear. “I saw to it myself.”  
“No. He’s the reason that you’re running.” 

He took a step back, his nostrils flared in outrage. “How dare you!”  
“You know that if he caught the whiff of me being even slightly in danger that he would stop at nothing to protect me. You may read about humans all that you want and preform all of the experiments you like, but you will never truly understand us. You don’t know the strength of a bond between people, the love of those who would do anything for one another. That’s how Voltron has grown so strong against the Galra, it’s how I lasted that year avoiding capture, it’s why you won’t catch the rest of my team. You don’t understand the human nature of surviving no matter the cost. Voltron will stop at nothing to rescue me, to save my family, to save our planet. It is going to be the source of your downfall, your highness. You don’t know us. And that terrifies you more than you’ll ever admit.”

“Voltron is dead.” Lotor spat, showing the smallest sliver of the spitting, angry prince that she had unleashed last time. He strode away from her with a look of disgust, but there was a look in his eyes, a look she had not seen from him before. Uncertainty.  
“Then why do you look so unsure?”   
Her mouth twitched at his hesitance. Game, set, and this match was hers. 

The victory was short lived, he snarled as he flicked his wrist. Still locked in place as her nerves lit on fire. She gasped, unable to fall to the ground or to fight back. The jolts lasted longer this time, through the spotty vision and tasting copper, teasing the edge of consciousness.   
He finally released her to collapse on her knees, trembling in the aftershocks as he dragged her upwards and shoving her forwards as the elevator door opened.   
“I almost felt sorry for what I had planned for you, but now I wonder if it’s too lenient.” She scowled as best as she could through the pain as new arms grabbed her. 

“You know my orders, and use whatever methods necessary. They are more dangerous than they look.”   
“Sire,” A raspy voice spoke above her. She looked up at her newest caretakers, flash of white masks and glowing yellow eyes caused her to freeze in place. She regretted her prior actions now as she saw exactly who was in charge of her now.   
While it had been brief, she would remember those eyes from her brother’s capture, the swirling balls of infinite vortexes threatening enough to witness, how did it actually feel to be on the receiving end? “The implant isn’t quite ready for testing-“  
“Then adjust it as you go.” Lotor snarled. “I want the prisoner prepped and ready for their next fight before the night is through, do I make myself clear?”   
“Yes Highness.”  
“Then quit stalling your precious time and get to work.” He turned to ascend in the elevator once more, briefly turning around to address her again.  
“If your bond with your brother is so powerful, then I hope he gets to feel every moment you have with the Druids.” 

With that, he left her alone with them, dread sinking in her chest as she was manhandled around and further into their laboratory.   
‘Lance, please hurry.’ She sent out the desperate call as she was swallowed up by a wave of darkness.

***

Galran script ran across the screen in a flurry of odd shaped runes and numbers, blurring together in a purple haze. Colleen drummed her fingers absent minded on the keyboard, eyes searching the computer screen before her desperately for anything familiar. The Galran language was still a mystery to her, even after spending a year studying the language while in hiding, she could make out so little of it. Luckily the translator that Katie had installed in her hard drive did most of the work for her, printing out pages of jargon that were the Galra’s most important files and messages. She promptly threw those out, if they didn’t have to do with any human activity, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass.

The final page finished, printing out the last of what looked to be a long night of sifting through paperwork to find anything remotely useful. Luckily she wasn’t alone on this, thanks to Katie, Coran, and Shiro volunteering whenever their duties didn’t interfere. Cree offered help as well, knowing more than a dozen languages and free more often than the Paladins were. His hands were too big to handle the tiny computers, so he stuck to the transcribing. She set the stack of papers on top of her laptop, closing the lid on her work for now.  
She longed for the days where her biggest problem was customer support when their website was acting up, rather mundane compared to scouring the known universe for a scrap of information to where Marisol could have been. 

Colleen stretched out as she stood, bones popping as she adjusted from her hunched over position and straightened out. How long she had actually been in this room for? She used to get on her family about spending too much time on their laptops, teasing that their brains would turn to mush and their eyes would roll out of their heads from staring too long. She needed to take her own advice, stomach grumbling in agreement.   
She opened the door, noticing how quiet the halls were. In the old Castle, there was always the faintest hum of an engine or the buzzing of lights. Now it nearly echoed when she walked along, no one to dampen the noise. 

When it had been Lance missing, Voltron nearly at a complete halt because of the missing paladin. But now it was almost business as usual, fighting the Galra, freeing planets, and playing diplomats nearly nonstop, plus with the pressure of trying to plan to free Earth and gathering alliances to strike- nearly everyone was at their wits end.   
The humans and Cree were more free than the others, diving headfirst into searching for their friend, but even they had found their own little niche with the crew. 

Paulienne had taken to tinkering with loose mechanical bits while reading over the papers. Coran had taken notice of this, praising her for fixing the Fluxium Carbonate Generator that Hunk had been meaning to fix for ages and asked her to aid him with the ship maintenance. At first she had refused, but after two hours of sitting and reading, she decided that she could learn more from him than anything else. She later admitted to Colleen that she was actually extremely dyslexic, reading in English was a challenge enough, not to mention another alien language. Working with her hands meant that she couldn’t screw up any bit of their case.   
Cree was an excellent translator, knowing bits and pieces of many languages. He even knew some Altean, offering to teach it to the others and re-labeling things around the Castle (according to Katie, the Altean system of learning was very intense, staring off in the distance as if reliving a memory). Even after so long in space, the paladins were still shocked at how little they knew, especially when they found out that they had been using mechanical grease as toothpaste. 

Matt all but threw himself back into the cause. He spent more time looking into the paperwork than Colleen did. The problem was how easily he would become frustrated at the lack of information, lashing out at others who tried to pull him back. Even as his mother, she had a hard time dragging him away.   
The only reason that he was not in there with her today was the Rebellion had called him away on a mission, infiltration at some base that was relaying information from Earth to the top Galra cruisers. It could have had insight of where Marisol went. Just enough to hopefully take his mind off of this for a moment, or maybe it was a way to relieve some of the anger built up, but he had reluctantly agreed to go, forcing her to promise to send a message if they found anything, no matter how small or how bad it was. 

As she was walking, she felt a small lurch. The battle must have ended, bringing the Castle in to the prison planet for pick up and transportation of former prisoners. She changed her destination, heading down for the medical bay. They could need all of the hands they could get.  
Paulienne and Shiro were already there, folding blankets and prepping tray-fulls of nunvill and water for the incoming reception. Shiro propped a load of blankets on his prosthetic and let it drift to the other side of the room.

“What’s your distance on that?” Paulienne asked, pausing from pouring glasses to watch as it deposited the pile and floated dutifully back to his side, picking up the other side of a blanket without missing a beat.   
“Pretty far, I guess? I left it in my room and had to join me on the bridge once. Not sure of what the actual distance is though, I haven’t had a chance to fully test it.” He answered.   
“So the connection doesn’t waver with distance or between rooms. Neat.” She shrugged.   
“I kind of feel like Thor with Mjölnir, you know, being able to summon it from so far.” He had a small smile on his face as he continued to fold blankets.

“And you made it lame.” Paulienne shook her head and switched trays.   
“Thor is not lame.” Shiro protested. “He’s the God of Thunder and a superhero. He’s got hundreds of comics about him and the other Avengers.”  
“Those are so old!” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know anyone who still reads actual comic books anymore.”  
“Well now you do.” He snapped the blanket with a sense of finality.   
“Huh, guess your hair does match you age, then.” Paulienne quipped as she finally took notice of Colleen in the doorway. “What do you think Colleen?”

“I’ll have you know that Sam and I met at a comic book shop near the Garrison. He was arguing with a friend about moduling, I couldn’t let him keep being wrong.”   
“But it makes sense that you two did!” She pushed a stubborn lock out of her face. “You’re…” She trailed off, as if realizing where the thought led.  
“I dare you to finish that sentence, Ms Harper. I dare you.” Colleen lifted a brow as she picked up another pile of blankets.  
“A big nerd.” She ended weakly, turning back to the tray. “That’s what I was going to say. Nerds. I am surrounded by them.”

The door swooshed open. The three of them turned away from their friendly banter to address the first of the recently liberated prisoners.   
Instead, there was only one, surrounded by several spooked Paladins. The prisoner stared at the floor timidly, unsure of these new faces, not seeing how both Allura and Lance looked as if they had seen the dead come back. 

“Welcome back guys.” Shiro addressed them, noticing their silence. “Is everything alright? Where are the rest of the Paladins?”  
“Down below, Hunk, Keith, and Pidge are sorting them out. Coran is on his way to start the transportation process.”  
“Does this one need a healing pod?” Paulienne asked bluntly.  
“No, uh, they have something to tell us. We thought it best to give them something to drink and somewhere warm to talk.” Allura wasn’t making eye contact and Lance still wasn’t speaking.  
Allura and Paulienne took them under their care, fussing over the right blanket and drink for their guest. Lance stared after them, as if in a trance, rooted to his spot.  
“Lance, are you okay?” Colleen asked, gently laying a hand on his arm.  
“Marisol.”

“What?” Paulienne dropped the blanket entirely.   
“I-I saw Marisol.” His eyes grew glassy and distant. “Marisol was there. Right in front of me…” He extends his hand out into open space, reaching for something that was just out of reach.   
“Hey, bud, let’s go sit down for a minute, okay?” Shiro cautiously grabbing his hand with the upmost gentleness, leading him to the stairs circling the healing pods. Lance followed along like a marionette, still muttering his sister’s name.   
Colleen turned to the other ladies, who were handing their guest a glass of nunvill. They downed it in one sitting, sighing as they set the cup aside. 

“Why don’t you start by telling us your name?” Allura started as they all sat down. The alien sighed once more, looking around at the three of them hesitantly.  
“They called me 871-4953, but my given name is Tau. I come from a farther region of the Trialger System, where the Galra have just recently taken over with in the last three decaphoebs. They took prisoners when they conquered us, unfortunately I was one caught in their newest conquest.”   
“What was it like? The Galra ship you were on, why were you there?” Colleen asked.   
“I was taken to the main fleet of ships, as most prisoners are now. I went through the isolation period and the decisions.”

“Isolation period?” Colleen asked.  
“Yes. To determine the status of the prisoners, they must go through an isolation period. They are trapped for many quintants to see how they handle the silence. However one does determines whether they are Fighters or Workers. I did not fare so well, I did not make it past the first quintant. The weakest are sent out, as we cannot provide any kind of entertainment, I figured that I would spend the rest of my life here until the Paladins showed up.” They ducked their head, Paulienne took this as a need for more nunvill, pressing the glass to their hand. They greedily gulped it down.  
“Why did you approach Lance?” Allura asked as she spared a look over at her teammates.

“He is lonely, and grieving. I could feel it pouring off of him in waves. I thought I could help.” They looked up, the singular antenna starting to glow. “He is even more upset now. I did not know I would affect him.”  
“Their species are part empaths and part telepaths.” Allura whispered to the humans with their guest distracted. “They pick up on emotions and use the telepathy to soothe other’s feelings, but they can only use their own experiences to convey them.”  
“I thought I recognized him. He looked so much like Mary-Sol.”

The tension in the room rose, Allura tried her best to keep a straight face.   
“Who?”  
“She was another prisoner on the ship. She stood behind me in line during the selection process, she was brave enough to use her own name. I said I would remember her. I thought for a minute she had escaped and I sought him out. I realized my mistake too late, I did not know my memories would upset him.”

“It is quite alright, Lance will be fine.” Allura reassured them.  
Lance did not look fine, hunched in on himself as Shiro tried to comfort him even with him pulling away.   
“Do you know what happened to her?”  
They shook their head.  
“If she is not on the planet, then she may have been taken into the Ring.”  
Shiro froze in his comforting, a heavy hand resting on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Ring? Is that fighting or something? Like Roman gladiators?” Paulienne asked Allura under her breath.  
“I do not know what a Ro-Mon is, but yes, it is fighting. The strongest of the prisoners are pulled into the Ring to face off each other. It is a match to the death.”  
“Why?” 

“Many times it is for entertainment purposes, to keep the commander’s morale up while they were stationed.” Shiro spoke up from his spot, his hand not leaving Lance’s shoulder. “Sometimes there’s a goal for the gladiators to work for, but mostly it’s a ruthless bloodbath.” 

Colleen closed her eyes, the flash image of seeing Marisol in some giant ring, frantically fighting for her life horribly vivid. Was that why they had not heard anything about her? 

“Thank you for this new information.” Allura said, standing up abruptly, offering her hand to them. “I can escort you to the pods for your transportation back to your planet.”   
“Oh, yes, thank you.” They stood after her. Just before they turned away, they cast a forlorn look to Lance, who looked to be on the verge of a breakdown.   
“I am deeply apologetic. I hope that you can find rest with your loss.” Allura wrapped an arm around their shoulders, gently leading them out of the room. 

Colleen couldn’t tell who was more affected by the news. Lance‘s had taken on an ashy hue, his hands reaching up to grip his hair tightly in his fists. Shiro’s eyes were glazed over, his human hand clenched so tightly against his teammates armor that it threatened to crack. Paulienne, on the other hand, looked ready to wage war.   
“Bastards, those absolute bastards. How could they do that? Enslave innocent people for work or death? Sick, fucked up, bastards.” Her nostrils were flared, her whole body trembling in rage. “I’m going to murder every last one of those fuckers, mark my damn words.”   
Colleen placed a hand on her arm. Why wasn’t she having a reaction like Lance or Paulienne? Why wasn’t she feeling anything? 

The door opened again, Colleen suddenly snapping to attention. It was not the time to be having a crisis, especially with Katie standing in the doorway now, taking stock of everyone’s faces.   
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Colleen asked, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.   
“We-uh, we’ve just got word from Keith. He’s on the bridge with some Blades.” She took a deep breath, looking at Lance as she said the next part.   
“They say they’ve found something.”


	9. Chapter 9

***

The bridge was full of people as their small group filtered in. Kolivan, the leader of the Blades, stood with a grim expression next to Keith and Coran, who was sorting through files on the holographic screen above them. Hunk was next to Allura, Cree, and Krolia, casting a worried glance at Lance, but looking away sharply when spotted.  
The door had barely had time to shut behind them when the large Galra spoke. 

“While on the planet below, we were able to obtain files on the group of prisoners from the Galra data base. Each prison planet has the original list of prisoners before and after they were separated in case they needed to update any files. We looked back over the past 12 movements and we found the human you are looking for—”  
“She was sent to the Ring.” Lance interrupted lowly. “One of the prisoners we spoke to told us, she stood by Marisol as she was sorted. She’s gone, no need to break the news guys.” He kept his head high even as his balled hands shook at his sides and his voice cracked the slightest. 

“That’s what we feared as well.” Kolivan continued on, the briefest hint of pity in his voice. “But your kin isn’t gone.”

“Huh?”  
“We did some further digging, by we I mean Pidge,” Keith spoke up. “Prison records aren’t the only things that the guards keep. They like to watch videos in their spare time, mostly just space soap operas and other junk, but they watched battles as well.”  
The tension that grew in the room was palpable.  
“Battles?” Allura asked. “As in from the Ring?”  
Keith nodded. “Apparently from what Kolivan and Krolia’s intel has gathered, there is a competition of sorts happening. Lotor needs a new second-in-command. He’s holding the title for the best gladiator; whoever beats the Champion’s title gets the glory.” 

“Champion?” Katie whispered, her eyes flickering over to Shiro. “But that’s what those first prisoners-“  
“That was my title.” Shiro said softly, closing his eyes briefly before addressing the group, looking much older than a twenty-something should be. “Back when I was with the Galra, that was my title. They only give names to the best fighters.”  
“That’s ridiculous.” Paulienne spoke aloud before she could catch herself.  
“It’s not so ridiculous when you’re sharing a cell with prisoners called ‘Throat Slasher’ and ‘The Victorious’.” He tried to joke, but the most he got out of it was a grimace from Keith. 

“There is only one so far that has made it past the first few rounds. Someone called ‘Prodigy’. They’ve only fought publicly very few times, but they are a crowd pleaser, and rumored to be Lotor’s favored.”  
“What does this have to do with Marisol?” Paulienne asked. 

Keith and Coran shared a look, the latter looking quite queasy at the next step for them.  
“They’ll understand better if they watch.”  
Coran nodded firmly. “It’s probably best that you haven’t eaten yet, Paladins. It’s not the cleanest fight.” He tapped his fingers against the monitor, queuing up a video and allowing it to play. 

The first thing they heard was the roar of the crowd, screaming viciously at the lone figure on the screen, jeering garbled words at the prisoner. It zoomed in on a battered Galra face.  
“Philus.” Krolia muttered under her breath. “He was one of our operatives, he’s keyed in with you for a couple of your missions. We haven’t heard from him in ages.” 

It made sense if he had been radio silent, the figure on the screen had seen better days. Starved and recently beaten, he was lumbering with the finesse of a hippopotamus, swinging blindly at his opponent. The other figure was more of a blur, moving so fast that the camera barely could catch a good glimpse at their face. Their black staff moved just as fast, hitting with the precision of a skilled marksman. 

Lance opened his mouth, as if to ask why they were watching this, when a piercing noise rung out, the crowd screaming at the move. The imprisoned Galra held a clawed hand to his stomach, dark purple blood staining the tattered fabric and the sand beneath him. He stumbled to the ground, kneeling defeated as his opponent raised their staff, a sharp end pointing square in the middle of his chest. The picture shifted and zoomed in on the interaction, mouths moving in unknown words, but that was the last thing that they cared about, focused on the long dark hair and the face that looked so similar it made Lance gasp out as if in pain. 

Marisol. 

But at the same time it wasn’t. Heavy-looking shackles on her wrists wound their way up her arms and up her shoulders like mechanical tendrils, her hair had grown a few white streaks underneath. But that wasn’t what scared Colleen. Marisol’s eyes were lifeless, almost dulled to the scene in front of her, as if she had seen this so many times that it has lost its impact.  
Her mouth moved, but no words could be gleaned over the chanting of the crowd, begging for one thing.  
_Kill. Kill. Kill._

With a shrill scream, the spear found its way in through his chest, the purple blood spattering everywhere from the force of the impact. She collapsed besides her slain foe, breathing heavily as guards rushed out, dragging her away from the body with difficulty. 

A title screen replaced the video feed. Purple Galran script bolder across the screen just before it turned black.  
“What did...” Keith turned to Krolia and Kolivan to translate.  
“Prodigy. 175th kill.” The gruff voice of Shiro spoke up, teetering on the edge of unabashed rage.

The reactions across the room were instantaneous. Paulienne turned on her heel and stormed out, Cree calling softly to her retreating figure before chasing after her. Katie and Hunk shared a look of pity and frustration before turning back to the screen. Allura held her hand up to her mouth, to spooked to try to give any kind of encouragement to the others, glancing over at Lance...

A guttural yell tore its way through the young man’s chest, launching the helmet that Shiro had given back to him just minutes ago at the screen. Keith and Coran dodged out of the way, the screen flickering before fading to the desktop, taking the horrible words with it. Keith stood back up, ready to reprimand Lance for nearly beheading him, but stopped short, his face falling. 

His angry teammate had vanished just as fast as he had arose, covering his face with his arms.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He tore arms down, tears streaming down his face. “That should be me. That should be me, not Mari!”  
“Lance, what are you talking about?” Hunk asked as he approached apprehensively.  
“Lotor threatened me, swore up and down that I would be the one thrown in that damn arena, not her.” Colleen opened her mouth to ask, but realized before she could even form the question. 

He was talking about his capture. Lance had been so quick to shove it under the rug, brushing his experience off with a good natured joke or an off-handed comment about how awful the food was. He had never really sat down and spoken about what had happened to him, and they had just let it go.  
“Mari, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His face screwed up, scrubbing his hands down his face. “He can’t take you away from me.” 

Shiro slowly strode forwards, reaching out to Lance. He had barely brushed his shoulder before Lance all but collapsed into the older man, shaking with gut-wrenching sobs. Shiro firmly wrapped his arms around the boy, closely followed by Hunk. Keith, Allura, and Katie shared a look with each other, brimming with anger and despair, before they joined the group in the hug, trying to comfort their friend. 

Coran set his jaw as he regarded the group, turning away to let them have their moment and approaching Kolivan and Krolia, softly asking that any sort of planning that they had be pushed back, even if only for a couple of vargas. Despite the dire circumstances and the need to act as fast as physically possible to get her out, Voltron was only as good as their team, and right now, they needed each other before they needed to save the universe. The pair of Galra nodded, seeing their way to the monitor to pull out the rest of the info off of the drive, to see if there was anything that could be gleaned from it. 

Which left Colleen all alone. While it pained her watching the group try to help each other, knowing that there was absolutely nothing that she could do to help them, he needed his family. She was just merely an outsider looking in.  
Speaking of family, she made a promise to Matt...

***

The observatory was one of the few places that remained the same in the move from one Castle to another. The only major change was the comfortable couches piled high with plush pillows, nearly drawing one in to it’s comfortable abyss the moment anyone sat down. 

Colleen wished that she could sink in and disappear as she placed her communicator besides her with a sigh. The call with Matt had been dismal at best. He immediately knew something was up, his face pinched in anticipation. He hadn’t moved once she was done relaying the news, for a moment she wondered if it had froze and if she would have to deliver it all over again.  
After a tense moment, her shut his eyes, quietly asking her to send a copy to the Rebels for further investigation and insight. She nodded and he hung up without even saying goodbye.

Matt was probably going to antagonize over that video until his eyes bloodshot, examining every millisecond possible for any signs that they might have missed. Even after learning every possible thing he could, he would probably play it just to see her again. To further rub salt in the gaping wound that she had left in her absence, torturing himself over her fate.  
She knew because it is exactly what she would do. It was what she did now, rethinking over the last time she had seen Marisol in the old base. How she should have left her damn bag and grabbed her instead. How she should have pulled her along to safety with her even while unconscious. How she should have done something, anything, to stop the Galra catching her, dragging her into that infernal Ring where she was fighting for her life, killing so often that it has become dull to her, even normal.

The door swooshed open behind her. Colleen immediately sat up straighter, wiping any trace of emotion off of her face. She couldn’t be vulnerable now, not when there were others counting on her.  
She didn’t face the other person as they joined her on the couch, groaning softly as they sat. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, something catching her notice. 

“Out of all of the shit I would have expected to see in outer space, mice that could properly braid hair was surprisingly not on the list.” Paulienne said quietly, gently pushing a thin box braid out of her face, the smallest smile of her face. “It goes much faster with eight tiny hands.”  
Colleen pressed her lips together in what she hoped was a smile. She remembered one late night when they were on watch back of Earth when Paulienne had told her about how her grandmother used to do her hair, how it was one of the sure-fire ways to help her calm down. The mice were much more insightful than Colleen assumed.

“How are you holding up? Do you want to talk about it?” Paulienne was not the most personable person, hasn't been they met her almost a year ago, so her asking to talk about feelings was unusual to say the least.  
“I'm fine. How are you?” She deflected the question, looking at the younger girl.  
Paulienne gave her a tired look.  
“I know you are not pulling a ‘fine’ on me, Mrs Holt. It’s girl code that ‘fine’ actually means that everything is absolutely not fine. On a scale of 1 to 10, it's a 15.”  
“Then I stand by my answer.” She said as she leaned back on the cushions. 

The younger girl copied her. “Yeah. It’s all gone to shit. And that’s after being on the run for a year, but it still doesn’t answer my question.”  
“Paulienne, I said-“  
“I know, you’re fine. Humor me?”

There was silence, the distant humming of the lights the only sound for a moment. She heard Paulienne take a deep breath, perhaps to change the subject for the time being when Colleen spoke up.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Paulienne looked over, one brow arched. “For what?”  
“I never apologized about what went down in New Orleans. For bringing my bleeding son into your dad’s home and ruining the carpet. You never asked for a bunch a fugitives to hide in your basement, or to guide us through your city to avoid the soldiers looking for us. You wanted to stay with your family, and all I did was put them in a prison camp.” She chuckled mirthlessly, shaking her head as she remembered another thing that had been ruined.  
“That wasn’t your fault...”

She shook her head. Words kept on tumbling out of Colleen’s mouth, the dam had broken open and there was no stopping it now.  
“See, that’s what I’m good at, I either am too scared and cause others to pick up my slack. That’s what I did after Kerberos, it nearly got my daughter arrested because I was too scared to do it myself. I only got the balls to do it once my daughter vanished, the one piece of me that kept me sane, poof.” Colleen snapped her fingers. Paulienne looked uncomfortable, but let her speak. 

“After that, I switched up tactics. I quit my steady job and sold my home, I went out looking for answers by myself. And I could have done it alone, I really could have, but then I got the brilliant idea to drag others along with me. I almost tried both Lance’s parents before I realized that they wouldn’t want to have more grief. So I went after the kids, desperate for any kindred spirit. Someone who was stubborn and smart and willing to do what it took to save their family, even if it was a lost cause. 

“Marisol was so angry at me when we first met, but I knew that if I pushed hard enough that she would go on this wild goose chase with me. And she did. She risked everything time and time again, and how did I thank her? By being reunited with my family while she was all alone, more than once. But that didn’t last, she found him almost all by herself. And just when everyone gets their happy ending, the world goes to shit. What do I do? Bring her right back in again. And now look where she is.”

“Mrs Holt, I’m sure you’ve done your best.” Paulienne reaches out for her, using such a sincere voice that she didn’t know the younger girl possessed. Colleen pulled back.  
“And it keeps getting better, because now my son and her brother are suffering because I was too scared to do anything, you and Cree are the furthest possible from Home. And Marisol? She’s slowly dying and it’s all my fault. How great of a person I am! Is this the best that I can do?!” Colleen didn’t quite know when she stood up, pacing in front of the couch wringing her hands like a mad person. Her voice had risen to a passionate yell, shouting at her audience with a trembling voice. “All of this is my fault, everyone blames themselves, but it truly is me!”

The younger girl let her catch her breath, Colleen breathing almost erratically, raking her hands through her hair. When had tears started falling down her cheeks? She didn’t deserve to cry. Not when the person who deserved to be angry and cry and shout was incapable of doing so, maybe would never get the chance to truly express herself because of how Colleen had ruined her life.  
Paulienne waited until the older woman wiped her face, finally letting loose the grief that had been buried within her.  
Once the fire in her had died down, Colleen sat down defeatedly, waiting for the scathing remarks that Paulienne was known for. She deserved every single one.

“Mrs Holt…Colleen,” she corrected herself. “All of what your saying might have happened, but it’s all horse shit.” Colleen opened her mouth to argue, but Paulienne held up her hand.  
“Do you remember when the Galra ransacked my home? How I had to watch from a block away how they rounded up my dad, my uncles, and my little cousins? Do you remember how I wanted to scream and rip those soldiers to shreds for even thinking about touching my family? The only thing stopping me from ending up in the same position that they are in now is you holding me back, literally and metaphorically. You’re the one who convinced me than I could do more to help my family. I would be just like Tau if it wasn’t for you.”

“So yeah, Cree and I are very, very far away from home and caught up in a war that has nothing to do with us. Marisol is in Galra captivity fighting for her life, and Lance and Matt are both suffering boys who don’t know how to express emotions, all of that is true, but none of that is your fault. You are not the Galra, you haven’t taken over planets or hurt those around you for your own gain. We are just humans. Maybe that is our strength over them. We humans know how to stick together, never abandoning our own, no matter how bad or fucked the situation is.” She reached out for her hand, holding it within both of hers.  
“We’re going to find Marisol, we’re gonna get her back no matter what she’s been through or what they’ve done to her.”

Colleen didn’t even think before pulling her hand out of the grasp, throwing both arms around the younger girl with a choked sob. Paulienne, despite hating people hug her, welcomed the embrace, albeit a little awkward.  
“Cree, you better get your ass over here. It’s group bonding time.”  
Colleen hadn’t even heard the door open, their four-armed friend carefully walking over to the couch.  
Had he been there the whole time? Knowing him, he probably sunk back into the shadows as soon as anyone appeared, letting them be without drawing attention to himself. He had always been known for his bruising hugs, like a python trying to be friendly, but for once the ladies did not complain at the strength their friend had, clutching them tightly to himself. 

In that moment, despite the chaos that lay beyond the room, everything was starting to feel okay. That maybe they would all get out of this unscathed. 

***

Across the universe, an elevator beeped, letting it’s occupant know they had reached the destination.  
Lotor stormed out of the shaft, stalking his way down the Druid Sanctum. Usually these halls were a solemn place for research and testing, elders and apprentices alike approaching him and speaking freely about their latest works, but when the Druids saw the look on their Emperor’s face, they immediately turned away, going about their business quietly and swiftly.

How could he be so foolish to believe that Voltron had been destroyed? If the Quintessence Fields succeeded in tearing apart his mecha-suit like an angry child, then Voltron, having been inferior in every aspect, should have been obliterated from the exposure. His commanders had failed in recognizing that the Coalition had been growing since their conquest of Earth, even several sightings of a new Altean like ship. He did not have enough resources yet to punish all of the failed commanders, so he struck fear into their hearts to find the ship.  
He should have killed off the Coalition supporter much sooner, given him a long and enduring death rather than pit him against the Prodigy. Now the human child had hope, just enough moxie to defy him. 

How strange the human race was? Even after spending such a small amount of time around them and even more time reading up on them, the Prodigy was right. He would never know what it was like. He was grateful for that fact. Humans were like the little clicker bugs on the old colony; impossibly persistent, yet so very fragile and easy to train. He had the Prodigy firmly under his control just by several well timed lies, pulling the right strings to get the proper reaction.  
Voltron was a stray thread that was unravelling his intricate web, and as he continued his conquest, he couldn’t afford any loose ends.  
Drastic measure had to be taken.

The door to the main chambers open before he could fully approach, the Head Druid after the Witch had fallen many phoebes ago, meeting him outside.  
“Well?” He had no patience to exchange false niceties.  
“It was a success.” The raspy voice filtered through the mask. “The implant that was placed before their entry into the arena has been replaced, the new modifications you requested have been uploaded, with the help of Drudic magic, they will be more responsive than ever.”

“Are they awake?”  
“Not yet, they are still under the effects of the Quintessence. They should awaken soon and be ready for a match before the day is through.”  
“Excellent, I have one more request.” Lotor held up a drive, hardly bigger than his nail. “I need this uploaded into their conscience before they wake.”  
“Yes Sire.” The Druid bowed slightly before ducking inside of the room. Lotor took the invitation to follow. 

The main chamber was sterile and almost silent, the slight drip of the Quintessence within vials filling the room. Two other Druids stood around, monitoring the screens that display vital signs as well as files of their past human encounters for comparison.  
The Prodigy was lain out on the examination table, face lax. Their eyes moved beneath their lids as if dreaming, hands occasionally twitching, but other than that there was no signs of life. The dark hair was shaven short all around the base their head, white patches beginning to grow from the Quintessence exposure. He preferred the dark hair, with the white hair they looked too much like ‘her’…

“Sire, the upload is complete.” The Head Druid spoke softly as they approached. Standing silently besides him, they looked down on the Prodigy with curious looks, Lotor crossing his arms.  
“How long…” 

The human’s eyes snapped open. They slowly sat up, disregarding the wires and tubes still attached to their arms, eyes staring blankly ahead.  
“They are yours to command, just as you desired, ask them anything.” The Head Druid stepped back for further analysis.

“Prodigy.” Their head snapped towards him, the murky brown eyes now a shade of purple, much like the Champion’s eyes had been under the Witch’s control. The main difference so far was the obedience of the subject. “Stand up.”  
The Prodigy swung their legs off the table, ripping out the needles imbedded in their arms with little care, pushing themselves to their feet and standing besides the table, awaiting the next order.  
“Do you know where you are?”  
Silence.

“Sire, they are programmed not to speak.”  
“I know.” It had been a part of the newest upload, checking to see if the Druids had done their job correctly. “Come here.”  
They strode forwards, stopping a safe distance from him. 

“Are you satisfied Highness?” The Druid asked.  
“Surprisingly yes, but I’m not done with their test yet. Can you fight?”  
“Sire, it is in their programming…”  
“I wasn’t asking you.” Lotor snapped, turning back to his fighter. “Can you fight?”  
A singular nod.  
“Will you kill? For the sake of this empire, will you kill? Even if it means taking your own life in the face of defeat?’  
There was the slightest pause, but the Prodigy nodded, the dull eyes brighting up with a manic sheen. 

Lotor looked over his shoulder, whistling loudly. The door opened once more, a guard struggling to drag a prisoner with a burlap sack tied over their head. Their rebel uniform was in tatters, stumbling as they tried to walk. The prisoner was thrown to their knees, trying to fight back despite their hands tied behind them. With Lotor’s approval, the sack was removed.  
The human took a deep breath, brown eyes darting around the room as their vision adjusted, falling on the Prodigy.

“M-Mari?” The Holt boy gasped out, looking absolutely frightened at the sight before him. “Marisol? Baby? No, what did they do to you?”  
The Prodigy gave no sign of recognition, Lotor grinned gleefully. Before the re-programming, this would have sent the human child into a rage, but now it was as if they didn’t care.  
“Marisol, whatever this is, we can fix this. Please, just look at me!” They struggled against his bonds, the guard holding them tighter in place. 

Lotor stepped up besides the Prodigy, removing something from his belt. He snapped their staff to it’s full length, gently pushing it into their unmoving hand, only releasing enough to take a hold of the staff. He leaned over, gently pushing the splotched hair out of the way, whispering something lowly in their ear.  
The eyes flashed purple for a brief moment before they sprung, whirling the staff around before it found a purchase in his soft spot.  
He gasped, eyes flying up to their’s begging for mercy. His mouth moved, but the sharp edge lodged in his neck. He fell off the edge with a thud, twitching and sputtering.  
“M-M-M-“ It kept on a repeat, the machinery within short circuiting as it powered down. 

“Now, now my test is done.” The smile felt downright joyful now. “You’ve done remarkably well, Head Druid. I will take them off of your hands.”  
“They are ready for the next Ring Match?” They asked.  
“Oh no, we are looking well beyond the Ring now.” He placed a hand on the Prodigy’s shoulder, no attempt to brush him off. 

“It is time to begin the next stage of the plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit, now we're getting somewhere...
> 
> I'm going to try to finish this up before the end of the year, but we're only halfway through, so strap in for many more updates between now and then.
> 
> As usual, comments and kudos greatly appreciated :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Re-uploaded~
> 
> Me: I want to finish the end of this story before 2019! I'm gonna do it!
> 
> *realizing that there is a plot hole the size of the Grand Canyon that I need to rewrite half of the story to fix*
> 
> Me: Nvm
> 
> I PROMISE I will try to update more frequently, but please let me know what you think below!

***

Unfortunately, the universe did not have Marisol McClain as a priority. 

“What do you mean they said no?!” Colleen flinched at Lance's protest when Keith and Allura returned from the Coalition Leader’s meeting, downcast and irritated. She looked up from where Paulienne and her were lounging on the sofa, Colleen busy scanning the latest transmissions and Paulienne fiddling with a spare part as she watched the younger Paladins play a video game. Hunk stood besides him, a grounding hand on his shoulder . 

“I’m afraid that the Coalition members are spread a bit thin as of late.” Allura settled down on the couch besides Paulienne, rubbing her temples. “With Operation Terra and the Resistance still being hunted down by the Druids, there is a lack of citizens who want or can to help. Some of the Leaders say it’s selfish of us to focus our efforts on one person when the universe still needs saving.”  
“How many times have we saved their families? How many times did we risk our lives for one of their own? And they won't even try to help us after everything that we've done!” His hands shook but his voice was steady, enraged beyond yelling.

“Lance.” Keith held his hands out. “We understand, we really do. But we need the Coalition's support with this mission.”  
“So that’s it? We’re just leaving her?” Lance threw his arms out.  
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Keith backpedaled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. “We’re not giving up on her. We just need another way. The Leaders left for the rest of the movement, but we’re reconvening the movement after for Earth strategy. We can pitch our new idea then, see if they’ll help.”  
“What if they refuse?” Lance asked.  
“Then we'll do it on our own.” Allura confirmed, crystal blue eyes darkening slightly. “We will not leave your sister in Lotor's hands. We will return her, with or without the Coalition’s help.”  
Although he looked less than satisfied, he nodded. Even upset, Lance knew that they couldn’t go behind their allies’ backs, that’s what lead to a 10,000 year regime by a zombified Galran and his Witch Wife. He moved to plop back down between Paulienne and Hunk when their speaker above gave a short crackle and popped to life. 

“Princess, you’re going to want to see this.” Coran’s voice sounded strained. Allura and Keith exchanged glances with the others, standing up to march to the bridge. With the tension in his voice, it couldn’t have been anything good. 

On the main bridge Cree, Coran, and Shiro all stood before the monitor, staring intensely at what was on the small screen before them.  
“What’s happened?” Allura asked.  
Coran didn’t respond immediately, sliding his hand across the monitor to pull it to a giant screen in front of them. A small gasp escaped the Paladins, staring in horror at the image before them. 

It looked like an escape pod, like the one Colleen had helped pilot back to Earth so long ago, but it was in tatters, white pieces scattered in open space. The black glass was shattered, exposing the interior to the cold expanse of space. It looked like a normal shuttle, but the Paladins almost paled at the sight of it.  
“Is that...” Hunk began, unable to finish.  
“The escape pod that I...that Lotor was rescued in.” Shiro stuttered, taking a moment to regain his composure.  
“Where did he find it?” Keith asked.  
“I think the better question is why destroy it now?” Lance filled in. 

“It’s a message.” Allura’s nose flared and her whole body tensed. “He’s trying to send a message that he has the upper hand.” Lance gently touched her arm in an effort to help steady her. Colleen didn't know all of the details of their encounter with Lotor before Lance had gone missing, but with the way that Allura responded, it cut her deeper than the others.  
“Should we take the rubble aboard?” Hunk asked quietly. “I mean, it’s ruined, he’s already taken what he wants out of it, at least what we could figure out what’s missing.”  
“It could be a trap.” Katie spoke up with a shake of her head.  
“It’s garbage.” Lance agreed with a shake of his head. “He’s just trying to intimidate us. Picking it up won’t do us any good.”  
“It might help us find out where Lotor went?” 

“He’s nearby.” Allura shook her head. “I can feel a surge of energy.”  
“Then this could be our chance!” Lance turned to Shiro and Keith. “If he’s close, then Marisol could be too.”  
“Lance, I don’t think that is the best idea.” Shiro argued. “He may have come alone, or he may have an entire fleet at his helm.”  
“Then we capture him and make him tell us what he knows.”  
"Bring him back on board? That's risky even for us. It could be playing right into his hands."

“Lotor is trying to bait us. He wouldn’t have left the pod out in this quadrant of space if he knew we wouldn’t come across it. He knows that we are nearby, he could be planning something.”  
“So what do we do?” Katie asked.  
“Leave it. For now.” Keith said quickly before Lance could argue. “There’s no way he’d let us catch him, and he wouldn’t tell us anything useful. We need another plan to infiltrate and recover.”  
Lance opened his mouth, possibly to fight back, but before he could get any words out, the lights above flickered. The group looked up, watching as they blinked faster and faster until they died off completely, pitching them into darkness. The monitor flashed a warning sign before powering off as well, throwing them into darkness, the pale blue emergency lights activating enough to see the worried and apprehensive faces. 

“Shit, it was a trap.” Katie said. Keith and Allura summoned their bayards from their armor, the others realized they were in their civilian clothing, unprepared for any kind of attack.  
“Coran, can you get the system up again?” Keith asked, switching into leader mode as he approached the console with the elder Altean.  
“I’m trying, it seems like there is an internal power depletion.” Coran desperately tried to revive the computer, but the warning sign kept flashing eerily. “It’s coming from the Engine Room, but all of the Castle occupants are here.” His eyes scanned the room to count heads.  
“There is someone on board.” Keith finished for him, rounding to the others. "We've trained for this, remember Home Alone Protocol?"  
The Paladins nodded in understanding, pairing off and discussing how to get their weapons and armor from their rooms. 

“What do we do?” Cree asked, casting a glance at Colleen. They were the only non-fighters of the group, back on Earth they left the battles up to Matt and Marisol, sometimes Paulienne if it was close range, mainly focusing on the infiltrating and building their headsets. They were huge liabilities. 

This must have crossed Keith’s mind, eyes flickering back and forth between them. "Okay, Not Home Alone then. Coran, we need the systems back up and running, try to get a look as to where our intruders are. Take Paulienne and Pidge.”  
“Say no more.” Paulienne spoke up, bringing out her trusty knife, it would be better than being defenseless. Coran nodded his approval, motioning for her to grab his tool bag. Once she had the bag slung over her shoulders, she hurried after Coran and Katie, Colleen's heart fluttering anxiously as they snuck out.  
“Shiro, I need you to get Colleen and Cree to the cry-pod room. We need you two to contact Matt and Kolivan. If worse comes to worse, we may need backup.” Cree nodded as he grabbed a communicator from Keith, Colleen pulling out her and already starting to type a frantic message to her son.  
“Keep your coms on, we don’t know how many hostiles there could be.” Keith and Lance paired off while Allura and Hunk teamed up, leaving to search the Castle on foot. 

Shiro walked impossibly slow as he lead Colleen and Cree down to the cryo-pod room, one of the few secure places on the Castle ship. The small blue lights lit their way, mirroring the light from Shiro’s arm port, spreading eerie shadows down the dark halls as they passed.  
Colleen was so busy typing out the messages to Matt that she didn’t notice they had arrived until she heard Cree speaking lowly into his device, trying to bypass the Blade's encrypted systems. Shiro had pressed himself against the door frame, strategically between the hallway and the two of them as they filed in, standing awkwardly by the open door. 

“Pidge, Coran, what’s your status?” Shiro asked quietly into his com, but there was only radio silence, the static could be heard from where she was standing.  
The motherly instinct within Colleen immediately reared it's head at the silence, the need to protect her baby almost overwhelming. She shook her head and forced it back. Katie could take care of herself, she was a fighter. All Colleen would be doing was putting herself in danger, only she couldn’t fight her way out. Besides, no news is better than bad news.

She turned back to the device, ready to send another message, but it had turned dark. She whacked it a couple of times and pressed the buttons, but it refused to turn back on.  
“Do these things run on batteries?” Colleen asked, watching Cree do the same thing with his communicator, shaking his head in defeat.  
“No, I don’t know what they’re powered on, but they’ve never gone dead before…” Shiro admitted, hackles raising suddenly. Colleen barely got a warning before he shoved her into Cree, both of them stumbling into each other and nearly ending up on the floor. A dagger the size of her hand flew over her head, thudding into the opposite wall at about the same height as Cree’s neck. Shiro dove in after them, shielding them behind him, his floating hand reaching across the room to slam the button for the door. 

Since it wasn’t automated, it closed slower than usual, enough time for Colleen to catch a glimpse of the something moving through the dark hallway, intent on their location. It was a bipedal creature, looking almost humanoid in shape and size. The armor was the same color as the endless space outside, the barest stripes of orange gave them away against the darkness. Pulling another knife from a holster behind them, the enemy moved with purpose towards the three of them. Just before the door could slide shut, another knife flew, barely missing Colleen as she tried to scramble out of the line of fire. It slid shut, the lock engaging filling the empty space and enclosing them in. The unused pods gave an ominous glow in . 

Something akin to a large hand grabbed her ankle, Colleen gave an undignified screech as she shook it off. How had they managed to sneak in?!  
“Hey, hey, it’s me.” Shiro whispered as he activated his arm once more, giving off a dim blue glow like a glow stick. Cree crept around the other side of her, one arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders in a comforting way. With everyone accounted for and their eyes finally adjusting to the dark, she looked around the room, searching for an exit.

“What the hell was that?”  
“If I had to guess, I would say it’s the same thing responsible for the power outage.” The sound of something metal clattered to the ground. After some adjusting, Shiro picked up one of the blades their enemy had thrown.  
“This is a Luxite blade. Only Blades have these kinds of weapons made out of luxite.”  
“Is it a rouge Blade? Or one of those Druids that are hunting them?”  
She heard Shiro shake his head. “Kolivan would have told us about a rogue, and it’s not a formal Blade blade. It’s made out of the same metal. I have a feeling that it isn’t a coincidence.”  
“So this person is armed and very dangerous, fantastic.” Cree sighed, Colleen felt a warm feeling at Cree using sarcasm correctly as she turned towards the door again.

“What should we do now?”  
“The good news is the cryo-lock is going to stop whatever is out there from getting in. The bad news...  
“Is that the only door?” Cree asked, anticipating the answer.  
“Unfortunately yes.”  
“How long will we locked in here for?”  
“About a varga or two, give or take. Or until Coran can override the systems and let us out.” The option where no one came to save them and they had to fee or be killed was left unsaid.

“So we’re sitting ducks?” Colleen whispered, using the darkness to cover how fearful she truly was.  
“No.” Cree said softly, “We're not ducks. We’re sitting humans and an Oodian.”  
Even with their dire situation, the fact that he said it with a completely straight face, no sarcasm or mockery in his voice was what made Colleen snort softly. Leave it up to their Alien friend to miss the metaphor in an endearing way. Shiro gave a twitch of the mouth before turning to face the door, positioning himself in front of them, Cree enveloping her in his arms in a way that could have been comforting, but feeling the tenseness of his arms and the frantic beating of his two hearts left her to believe that it was to protect her at any cost. She clutched the knife close to her, bowing her head over the communicator once more to try to send a message, even if it was futile.  
All they could do now was wait.

***

There wasn't a lot going for Paulienne. Her drill sergeant told her as much back at Basic Training all those years ago. She wasn't a good aim (she preferred close range weapons compared to the heavy assault weapons), not the most athletic person (she would come in last in all of their mile runs), and certainly not a team player (not that she hated working with people, she just hated working with stupid people, and there were too many stupid people in the world and they all seemed to want to buddy up with her). The only thing that kept her from flunking out and going back home in shame was her stubborn will to not fail. She was getting better all the time, she could finally hit a mark from three quarters of a mile (not a bulls eye, just a hit), and she was starting to warm up to people and learn how work together. Funnily enough, she learned all of this not with the army, but with a bunch of crazy people who wanted to call giant mechanical cats to save them. Paulienne knew for certain that she had grown up in the past year and a half, and like hell was she going to let some hostile bastard take that away from her.

Coran, using some unGodly strength that could put all of the dudebros she knew back home to shame, pried the door open enough to allow the three of them to slide in, forcing it closed behind them. Pidge and her set across the bridge to the giant crystal container, Paulienne set up the bag of tools while Pidge tried to get the mainframe up and running. They needed to get the systems back online to find the hostile, but they needed to figure out what was causing the energy depletion in the first place. Pidge pulled out a long chord from her bag and hooked it from her arm gauntlet to the main computer, typing incredibly fast with one hand.

"How are we going to get the mainframe up and running?" Paulienne asked as Coran motioned for his bag,.  
"I'm trying to track where the energy is being directed to. Once we solve that, it should be a relatively easy fix to get everything back up and running again." Pidge didn't even spare a glance to them as she typed away. Coran made a excited noise as he finally tore the slat in the floor off, peering in to view the crystal port.  
"What's wrong?" Paulienne asked as he pulled a worried face.  
"The crystals are fine. Not tampered with at all." He scratched his head as he examined them, shining brightly under the dim lights. Pidge glanced up from her typing.  
"That's not what the scans say. The readings are off the charts, even more so than usual." The younger girl showed them her screen of the blueprints of the Castle. The blueish white streams of energy, quintessence as they called it, usually flowed throughout the Castle, powering everything from their computers to water pressure, air filtration to heating of the core. Everything was reliant on the harmonious relation of energy and technology, it's why the Coran and Paulienne worked so hard on the Castleship. The screen showed the receding of energy from their power supply, redirecting it to a singular room. 

"It's coming back here?" Paulienne asked. "But why?"  
Pidge's eyes glanced back and forth between the pulsing lights and the screen, which kept on moving further and further.  
"This is the main engine room, if these were to short out or overload, the entire Castle could be compromised." Coran said darkly.  
"Let me scan the crystals." Pidge wedged herself between them, running a scanner over the three crystals that controlled every aspect on the ship. She swore loudly, looking at her companions with the smallest hint of fear in her eyes.  
"The system is overloading. This whole thing is going to blow out if we don't stop it."  
Paulienne also cursed. If the crystals shattered, the air supply would drop so dramatically that all of the humans would pass out in seconds. The heating would go next, driving the temperatures down to the same as the freezing space outside their windows. Everyone on board would die of exposure or asphyxiation. 

"Only if the reading get beyond critical."  
"How much time do we have?"  
"If my calculations are correct..." Coran started to count on his fingers.  
"No! Not your math. Last time we trusted your math Sendak nearly got the Lions." Pidge cut him off, looking back to her screen. "The crystals have about seven doobashes before they reach critical."

"Should we unhook them from the main power source?" Paulienne asked, her mind flying into overdrive with potential solutions, immediately countering them with errors and flaws.  
"We can't. With the power being drained, the only thing keeping us breathing is the crystal's power, but even that is fluctuating." Pidge had a point, Paulienne could feel the air starting to thin a bit, breathing a little bit harder.  
"What about redirecting the redirecting? Push it to another system?"  
"That would put us in the same circumstance, but it could buy us time?"  
"Not enough to come up with a solution."

"So we're back to figuring out what is causing it and turning it off."  
"I'm trying to figure out what is making them overheat, but it keeps pointing me back at the crystals themselves." Pidge furrowed her eyebrows. "This almost makes me think of a virus..."  
Pidge bolted up. "Shit!"  
"What is it?" Coran asked.  
"I know what's doing it." She frantically pulled up another file on the screen. "Lotor himself asked me to help him design it. It was made to shut down ships from the mainframe itself, he must have modified it to do the opposite. The bastard is smart." She took on a bitter tone. This must have been back when they trusted him, when they thought he would use his knowledge to drive them into the future, not into war. "Whoever infiltrated the Castle must have known where to put it."  
"Which means this is Lotor's doing." Coran summed up. "How much longer?"  
"3 and a half doobashes. I'm tracing the tech now." She pulled up another screen, something bright purple sticking out among the blue. "Got it, but small problem. Neither one of us can reach it." She spun it around. It was in the floor by the crystals, but way further down than Pidge could reach.  
"My arm won't go that far." Coran muttered to himself. "Perhaps I could shift my arm smaller..."

Another thing about Paulienne that infuriated her CO's was how she rushed into things without thinking. She glanced at the purple outline of the chip, hardly bigger than her thumbnail, and the placement of it and dove in. She laid down against the floor and stuck her hand in, grasping blindly for the drive. Searing hot pain and a small sizzling sound rose up, her brain taking a long moment to process that it was her hand being fried. Swearing loudly, she pulled her arm back, drawing the attention of the others.  
"I can barely reach it, but it's hotter than Satan's ballsack." She waved her hand around. 

Instead of arguing with her about how it was risky or to make her step aside for one of them, Coran merely reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of industrial style gloves. Pidge nodded to her as she slipped them on, looking at the screen for reference. With the reassurance, Paulienne laid on her stomach, sticking her arm shoulder deep in search of the thumb drive.  
"To the left, a little further." Pidge directed her, watching the screen intently.  
Once she was on top of it, she reached gingerly for it. It wasn't hot behind the gloves protection, but it was clumsy, having several near misses and almost had it moments. Growling in frustration, she pulled her arm back out and tore the glove off with her teeth. She'd regret the consequences once they weren't about to lose all of their air.  
It took a moment to find it again, flinching at the boiling heat against her bare palm, it was like shoving her hand straight into hot coals. Gritting her teeth, she dove for it, biting through her lip as she pinched it tightly and pulled with all of her might. 

It clicked and released. 

Gasping as she pulled her hand out, she distantly heard the engine whirring as it powered down, Pidge punched the air as the energy started to redistribute once more. She rolled to her feet and ran back to the counsel, booting back up the lights and the camera feeds. Coran inspected her hand, already bright red and beginning to blister.  
"It'll be fine, you've got a cream that helps burns." She never thought that Cree dragging her along to do inventory in the med bay would be a blessing. Even still, he pulled out a long handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in her uninjured hand. She slowly wrapped it, relishing the brief coolness of the rag before it warmed against her flamed skin. Paulienne stood up besides Coran and looked over Pidge's shoulder as she flipped through each camera feed from the past hour.

"There!" She pointed out a dark figure in the hallway, nearly blending into the background as they moved. She could see Lance and Keith at the far end of the hall, their words muted as they shouted at them. A fight was about to break out, but a loud beeping noise drew their attention away and back towards the door behind them. It couldn't have been the figure on the screen, they were occupied.  
Pidge growled under her breath, pulling out her weapon, Paulienne copying her and taking a defensive position. There was nothing to do now except wait for the door to open.

***

Call Lance whatever names that you wanted to, but he hated horror movies. Ever since he was a little kid and Alex let him watch _Friday the 13th_ with him while their parents were out, he’s hated scary situations. He couldn’t even do haunted houses, everyone but Hunk had poked fun at him for that. It wasn’t the gore or the creatures that freaked him out, it was the suspense. When the music stopped playing and everything seemed too quite, just waiting for the jump scare was the worst part.  
He couldn’t help but feel that same anxiety fluttering in his chest as Keith and him walked along the dark halls. Every shadow was an enemy, every odd noise was there approach. But God forbid he ever let Keith see that he was scared…

After they had rushed back to Lance’s room for his bayard, they checked the farthest wing of the Castle. Ducking around corners, Lance held his bayard up and ready to fire, Keith took his 6, the black bayard ready. Ever since Keith’s sabbatical with his mom on the back of a space whale, he had lost that barbed edge to him that made it fun to poke at, just to rile him up. Now he was more serious, less argumentative than before. Part of Lance wanted to dig at him, just to see if he could bring up that bit of him again, but he had lost the fun of that ages ago. Maybe Keith wasn’t the only one to grow up. 

“I’m not seeing anything.” Keith said softly as they reach the end of the hall. “Maybe we should contact the others? See if they need help?”  
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”  
Maybe this whole thing had been a fluke, something so small that put them all on edge. Coran has just been complaining that the power crystals weren’t aligning properly, much more of a nuisance than the old Castle. 

“Duck!”  
Without asking why, he spun around and dropped to a knee, holding his bayard ready as something flew over their heads. Keith deflected the projectile, a harsh clang on metal against metal ringing before it clattered to their feet. They both stood ready, facing off with their enemy.  
The figure was barely seen against the dim emergency lights, nearly fading in to the shadows. Black armor blocked out the figure, unable to tell which kind of alien it was. The figure reached behind their back, pulling a long lance-type weapon from the holster, and brandishing it. 

“Stop right there.” Lance shouted as they slowly advanced. _‘As if they would just stop in their track because he told them to, really Lance?’_  
The figure kept on approaching, and Lance shot off a warning shot at their feet.  
Surprisingly this stopped them, pausing to inspect the damage to the floor before looking up, the pitch black mask demeaning. They sprung forwards into a sprint. Despite the long weapon, they rapidly approached, deftly avoiding the shots he fired. Using their staff like a pole vault, they launched themselves into the air, kicking Lance in the face and spinning their staff swinging down, barely missing Keith by centimeters as he rolled out of the way. 

“Allura! Hunk! We need backup in the west wing by the bridge.” Lance shouted into his com, aiming for the figure again. Both Keith and him had them sandwiched in the middle, ideally a horrible situation for any outnumbered fighter. 

They didn’t even seemed deterred by their situation, blocking almost every shot with the lance on the upswing and batting Keith’s strikes with startling skill with the downward strike. They weren't as skilled as Keith, but they were pretty damn close.  
Figuring that long range wasn’t cutting it, Lance willed his bayard to change form. Two swords are better than one. As if sensing his hesitation, the figure stabbed their staff into the floor, using their momentum to kick out, sending Keith sprawling back and Lance’s weapon sailing in the opposite direction. Before he could leap for it, the grabbed his outstretched hand, clamping down with a grip of steel.  
Lance tried not to scream as his fingers cracked. Using his weakness, they flipped around him, pulling his arm along the way and wrapping around his back. He barely had time to realize that arms don’t bend that way when his shoulder popped. He fell as soon as they let him, clutching his arm pathetically. 

He tried to shake off the pain as Keith squared off with them, the grunts and clashing filling the hallway. He crawled across the hall, reaching his uninjured arm to grab his bayard, transforming it into the broadsword. Breath shaking, he slowly put his shoulder back into place, gasping as it crackled the whole way.  
He hadn’t popped his shoulders in forever, usually saving it as a party trick to freak people out. The last time it had hurt like this was when he found out he could do it; he had been wrestling his niece and nephew four years ago while Sasha was out on a date night. They had put him in a similar kind of position when this happened last time. The only other person who knew about that was there with him that night helping him babysit, taking a break from studying for her midterms...

“Keith, wait!” Lance desperately fought to stand up, his arm still tingling and weak. Keith had just disarmed them, the staff tumbling away. Keith had already swung as Lance had shouted, the side of his sword catching them on their head. The stumbled down, falling to one knee, but otherwise unhurt. The helmet flickered and disappeared. The smallest gasp left Lance, even though he already figured out what was hidden behind the helmet. 

“Marisol?” Keith asked breathlessly.

She didn’t answer, looking up at them with cold, dark eyes. The irises of her eyes were a light shade of purple, white where the pupils were naturally dark. Keith stood back up, sword still brandished, but a controlled horror on his face. Marisol looked between the two of them, uncaring and calculating.  
“Marisol, it’s me. Lancey Lance.” He slowly approached, his sword downcast.  
“Lance-“ Keith tried to caution him, but his partner kept approaching. She had rounded solely on him now, head tilted as if intrigued.  
“Mari, it’s okay. We don’t have to fight anymore, we didn’t know it was you. You’re safe now.” He kneeled besides her, reaching out to her. He could have sworn something came across her face, maybe understanding...

He didn’t even feel the dagger stab him, gasping wetly as it struck right in his side where his armor didn’t protect. Keith might have yelled out his name, but he only had eyes for his sister, blank face and dark eyes. 

A blur of red shoving her back, out of range from Lance. Keith made an attempt to get him out of the way, but was whacked out of the way by Marisol. She had turned back to him, knife ready to strike again, but a guttural yell was her only warning as Keith, flying short distance with his jetpack, tackled her down and away from him.  
Now not distracted from his predicament, Lance felt himself toppling over, just barely able to catch himself on shaking arms. His vision started to become blurry. Was he crying? Did stabbing him cause him to cry or was it seeing Marisol again? He could hear further commotion going on, but his side was burning, but not just in a ‘I-got-stabbed' way, maybe there had been something coated on the dagger?  
It was getting hard to think. He hadn’t been sleeping well since his sister had gone missing, maybe it was finally catching up to him. At that moment, a nap sounded wonderful, his eyes even started to blink close.

Suddenly a harsh grip right on the wound woke him out of his daze, howling in pain as it all hit him at once. When had the lights turned on? He looked up to see Allura holding him, when had she arrived?  
“Hold still, Lance.” She told him softly, the grip on him loosening in the slightest. He tried his best to lay still, even as a funny sensation took over. It was like slathering aloe over sunburnt skin, sighing in relief as it took over his senses. After a couple of ticks, it faded away, soreness taking place. 

“How are you feeling?”  
“Like I just got stabbed.” He complained, taking her hand when she offered to help him up. She must have used her Oriande Altean magic to help heal him, again, he really needed to stop throwing himself in danger and having her to come save him from the verge death.  
_‘But if it meant that she cradled him in her arms…’_

“Where is everyone?”  
“Pidge and the others only just got the power back on. I moved you to another hallway to help you, Hunk is assisting Keith to get the prisoner subdued.”  
Prisoner? "What about Marisol?”  
Allura was quiet for a moment. “Lance, do you know who stabbed you?”  
“Yes, but she’s not a prisoner!” He shouted, turning down the hall. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, he almost lashed out at her to release him, as she turned both of them the other way. “It’s this way.”  
He grunted as he shook off the help, stumbling a bit as he got his footing under him again.

Back at the dead end hallway, Hunk was struggling to keep Marisol pinned on her stomach, Keith fixing handcuffs tightly on her wrists.  
“What are you doing?” He meant to charge forwards, but arms wrapped around him. _Damn Allura’s Altean strength._ “Lance, she’s not acting like herself. It’s more to protect her than anything.” Hunk promised as he sat her up, keeping a hand on her shoulder. She seemed to weigh the situation, the cuffs and the number of people, sitting quietly for now. Lance stopped struggling, forcing himself to calm down so Allura could released him. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Hunk asked.  
“I don’t know. Last time we saw this was with the clone when the Witch took him over.” Keith said softly. Lance hadn’t heard the details of that legendary fight, only that Shiro wasn’t himself during it.  
“But Haggar is dead. There’s no way that she can be controlling Marisol from the dead, right?”  
“No," Keith shook his head. "but the Druids could be continuing her work. We need to find the kill switch.”

At the mention of a kill switch, Marisol went from idle to moving faster than a heartbeat. She whipped her head around, biting Hunk’s hand hard enough to bleed. Hunk grunted in pain as she rolled away and to her feet, spitting the blood out of her mouth into his face before ramming him into the wall. She step-sided Keith and Allura as they advanced, bounding off the wall to kick them both in their face. Even with her hands tied behind her, she moved swiftly and deadly. Lance barely had time to bring up his sword before she flipped over him, the tip of the blade nearly slicing her as she flipped. She landed behind with a thud, the handcuffs falling off as she landed.  
"Marisol, please!" Lance kept pleading, hands shaking as he gripped the sword in front of him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. He couldn't move.

It was as if she didn't recognize her own name, snarling intelligibly as she lunged towards him once more.  
A blur of black and red intercepted her mid-jump and pulled her to the ground. Paulienne whipped her hair out of her face, blocking a punch from her and moving very quickly, getting under her arms and slamming her knee into Marisol's, the knees buckling as she fell. Paulienne darted out from under and maneuvered her way on top of the other girl, a half-nelson type hold.  
"Pidge! Matt! Now!"  
Out of nowhere Matt Holt, (when the hell did he get here), and Pidge rushed in. Pidge held her hands away so she couldn't fight back as Matt forced her head down to the floor, pulling out some cylindrical device and slamming it against the base of her skull. There was a loud, inhumane crunch and a gasp in pain, the first normal noise to come out of Marisol yet. Just when they thought she was subdued, Marisol yanked her hands back, shoving Pidge away and rearing her head back in an attempt to head butt Paulienne, who just barely dodged the move. Paulienne screamed as she forced Marisol to sit up, arms still pinned awkwardly. Marisol was still trying to fight, but something had changed. One eye was still the unnatural purple hue, but the other was brown and blown wide in fear, like some wild, feral cat. Her mouth moved, but only a deep wheezing sound came out. She made eye contact with Matt, who looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown and froze. She was still twitching in her grasp, but she struggled to make her mouth form the shape of one word. Lance just barely made sense of it.  


"P-Please."

With a heart wrenching cry, Matt swung again, shoving the device into her head. With a loud click, Marisol stilled. Eyes rolled back and she fell limp in Paulienne's grip. Paulienne slowly let her go as he swooped in and held her close to his chest. The room fell quiet around them, Paulienne and Pidge rushing over to check on the others, but Matt and Lance didn't budge, Lance's sword fading back into the natural bayard form.  
“What did you do?” Lance asked, his voice cracking as Matt cradled her close to him. She looked so small now as she lay unmoving in his arms. "Is she...?"  
"No." His voice was wrecked. "She's got a pulse." He didn't elaborate beyond that, pulling her even closer as if trying to shield her from everything.  
"Something happened to her in the Glara captivity." Paulienne said quietly. "Matt barely got the chance to tell us when we saw you get stabbed. She's...She wasn't herself. That wasn't the Marisol we know." She said it so firmly, desperately saying it to make it true.

Lance took a deep breath, letting go of one he hadn’t realized he had taken. He closed his eyes and the adrenaline finally calmed down, a lightheaded feeling filling him. He heard someone make a noise of protest as he staggered. Coran and Allura grasped his shoulders tightly, righting him.  
“Someone needs an iron pill.” Allura said softly to him. He nodded, not really paying attention to her talking as Matt gathered his sister up in his arms, clutching onto her like she was the most precious thing in this universe. Propping her head against his shoulder, he carried her down the hall. 

He felt an arm wrap around his other side, glancing over at them. Coran was looking up down him with worry evident in his eyes.  
"She'll be okay. We'll get her in a pod and fix her up and get her back on her feet in one of your Earth Jiffies. You can take a nap and she's be all better by the time you wake up. We've got her back, it's over."  
Lance nodded numbly, allowing the Alteans to lead him after their teammates. As much as he wished for it all to be okay like Coran had reassured, he had the darkest feeling that this whole thing was just getting started.


	11. Chapter 11

***

The ringing in Matt's ear refused to die down, even after being away from the exploding craft for several vargas now. Perhaps he had been too close to the epicenter, he should have taken Coran’s offer for a healing pod. The adrenaline was only just beginning to fade away now, the superficial wound his head throbbing in time to the beat of his heart. Allura’s steady hand kept his long hair out of the way and head looking down, gently patching him up, (well, as gentle as one could be trying to stitch the gash on the back of his head). 

The other Paladins were scattered around the room, Hunk was sitting quietly with Pidge, who was trying to distract him with their argument of whether to double modulate programs or not while Keith stitched his hand up and wrapped it tightly in gauze. Shiro was standing near Coran, reading over the medical chart on the monitor, Altean letters blurring together. The Earth Rebels were huddled together near him, Cree helping Paulienne with her burns on her hand with a gentleness that only Cree seemed to have, even Paulienne had lost her barbed edges around him. His mother kept looking over at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice, the unspoken words she wished to say weighing heavily with intention. They kept looking between him on the med bay table and the singular occupied cryo-pod. 

“I feel like we should address the elephant in the room.” Keith said softly as he rolled up the gauze, glancing over at Lance. The younger man was standing with his arms crossed in front of the pod, blue eyes locked onto his sister as if keeping a vigil. He didn’t acknowledge that his leader had spoken aloud.  
“She’ll be alright.” Coran assured the worried eyes that had fallen on him. “Her bio readings are growing more stable every tick. She should be normal by the end of the sleep cycle, she'll probably wake up around that time.”  
“So what exactly happened to you guys?” Hunk asked as he flexed his hand, trying to get used to the feeling of the wrapping. “Allura and I only caught the tail end of the fight, you know, when she, uh…” Hunk trailed off as he glanced over at Lance, but the boy hardly flinched.  
“Stabbed him?” Keith supplied dryly. “Marisol attacked us, dislocated Lance’s shoulder, subdued me, stabbed Lance, bit you, and was ready to kill us all. What did they do to her?”

“That would be due to the enhancement attached to the base of her skull.” Coran said, pulling up a 3D rendition of the metal thing on her head so that the room could see. Pidge looked up intrigued at the model. She awed as she walked around to view at all angles. “How did the Galra come up with this design?”  
“Lotor likes to tinker with different planet’s science.” Allura spoke up behind him, a shade more bitter than usual when talking about the Galran Emperor. “He told me as much. Altean alchemy is his main focus, but he loves to research the different planets he encounters.”  
“So Earth technology plus some Druid magic created this?” Shiro asked. “That is how they are controlling her.”  
“They were, but thanks to Matthew’s quick thinking, it’s disabled it for the time being. Or at least until we can figure out how to get it off her.”  
Matt grimaced and kept his head down. It had been effective, but at what cost? Marisol’s hoarse plea still caused his skin to crawl. 

“Why can’t we take it off now while she’s unconscious?” Paulienne asked. “We could probably remove it with lasers or some other high tech thingy you guys have.”  
“I’m afraid not. The attachment is embedded in to the skin and bone, it might even be a part of the nervous system. Your physiology is extremely fragile, one wrong move could paralyze her. I’ve already hailed Ryner and the Olkari, we should be arriving to Olkarion before the day cycle begins.”

“What if the Olkari can’t fix her?” Hunk asked quietly.  
“We can’t think like that.” Allura spoke up as she firmly patting the bandage patch into place on his head.  
“Hunk is right.” Keith said. “We should think about the worse case. What if she tries to hurt us again?”  
“She won’t.” Lance said firmly, uncrossing his arms but never taking his eyes away from his sister. 

“Lance, she literally stabbed you. She wanted to kill you.”  
“Technically she didn’t.” Matt spoke up, pushing the hair out of his face as he looked up. “Lotor wanted to kill him, he wants to kill you all.” He dug his hand into his side pack, retrieving the thumb drive that made his ears ring and caused him to be almost too late, he held it out for Coran to take and upload. 

“Several vargas ago, the Rebels and I infiltrated what we thought was a just cargo ship on the other side of the quadrant. A simple in and out mission, but we found something much worse than munitions on board.”  
Several gasps rang out through the room as the files and photos loaded, but Matt didn’t even pause, he had seen them in person, he didn't want to see a melted version of his little sister again or a version of Shiro with skin too tight and eyes too dull.  
“Lotor had the Druids and other scientists at work with top secret technology. Forming and giving life to creatures made of magic and metal covered in skin to think, act, and behave like different species throughout the galaxy. Balmaran, Olkari, Human, even some Galran prototypes. They’ve already implemented them on nearly every conquered planet to integrate and investigate rebellious populations, calling for backup when they’ve gathered enough information.”

“Dylan.” Paulienne spoke again, a hint of her bitter tone resurfacing. “That's how the Galra found us on Earth.”  
Matt nodded grimly. “Since it was a success, they started a new project. Project Automation was supposed to be Voltron’s downfall. Once Lotor had all of us done away with, he was going to bring them out, broadcast "us" pledging allegiance to him and the Empire, keeping "us" firmly under his control. No one would ever know it was fake. The Rebellion and the Blades would have crumbled rather quickly and there would be another 10,000 reign of darkness over the galaxy.” 

“How does Marisol tie into this?” Lance asked.  
“Marisol was the Empire’s Prodigy.” Keith said. “If she could fight 175 battles in 12 weeks, then she could take down the Empire’s biggest enemy no problem.”  
“But not without something to block her out.” Pidge gestured to the attachment model. “She human, much more empathetic than most aliens, no offense guys," she glanced over at the Alteans. "She wouldn’t have wanted to hurt us without something stifling out her sense of herself.”  
“So, I guess the real question is is she herself?” Keith asked the group. “If she is programed to kill us, won’t she try the first opportunity that she gets?”

“But Matt shut down the program.” Lance interjected.  
“Coran said he disabled it, not destroyed it. It could still be active now, just waiting for the body to wake up.”  
“She’s not just a body!” Lance yelled, finally tearing himself away from the pod to round on the Black Lion’s Pilot. “She is my sister. Marisol’s not evil, and she would never want to work with Lotor.”  
“I’m not saying she would want to, I’m saying that the implant might be suppressing the sister that you know.” 

“So what? Are we just gonna leave her in the pod on the _chance_ that she could hurt us?”  
“It’s not a horrible solution.” Hunk admitted quietly. Lance spun round on him, his eyes shining with betrayal from one of his best friends. “We have to be cautious, at least until we can figure out how to shut the program down.”  
“Being cautious is what got her in this mess in the first place. We couldn’t go back to Earth because we were too cautious, Lotor exploited that hesitance. We couldn’t rescue her because we had to be careful and, guess what, Lotor exploited that too!”

“Marisol was not in the right mindset.” Matt found himself speaking up, unconsciously siding with Lance. “We should not treat her like a prisoner.”  
The other occupants in the room were trying so hard to stay out of it, even Paulienne was too preoccupied by her thoughts to chime in. The tension hung in the air like a bomb, one wrong word could cause either one of them to blow their cool.

“Shiro, I believe your expertise would be greatly appreciated.” Coran said tensely. The four young men turned towards their leader who, up until several months ago, had been in a similar position to Marisol. Shiro looked tired, his face reflecting his hair color not for the first time. He sighed as he brought his hand down from his face, as though a migraine was starting to build in his temples.  
“These pods can move location, right?”  
“Yes, they can.” Coran answered.  
“I believe it’s best if we take her downstairs to the holding cell.”

Lance squawked in disbelief, opening his mouth to retort, but a exhausted look from Shiro quieted him enough to listen to what he said next.  
“We don’t know what she underwent at Lotor's hand. Circumstances are different, Marisol does not have a witch in her head. In some ways, it’s much worse. But I believe that she was not acting like herself. Their influence makes us do things, horrible things that we would never dream of doing, even to those that we care about.” His eyes flashed to the bright red scar across Keith’s face momentarily before continuing. “The transition back is even worse, realizing what they did to you, what you’ve done. It can be just as traumatic as living through it. The room downstairs is secured, but more importantly, it is safe. Marisol is not our prisoner, she is someone that we all care about who has done some awful things, some of which were out of her control. We are not the judge, jury, and executioner. We are her friends, and we can be there to try to help her back to normal.”  
"Shiro is right." Colleen spoke up, blinking owlishly when everyone turned to her. "We've got a _Schrödinger's cat_ situation. We need to approach with caution, but also in a way that helps her. The last time we need it to trigger the program accidentally."

The four boys made eye contact with each other, as if waiting for someone to argue. Since no one spoke up, slowly nodding their agreement.  
“I want to be there when she wakes up.” Lance said, trying to hid his emotion behind a cough.  
“Of course, could you help me set up the room downstairs?” Shiro asked him. Lance nodded, blinking hard as they both went to exit the med bay. “Matt, you’re more than welcome to join us.”  
Matt simply nodded, he couldn’t trust his voice now.

“What about the rest of us?” Colleen asked softly, more at ease now that the anger had subsided.  
“Rest. It’s going to be at least ten vargas to reach Olkarion, and all of you need to sleep.” Coran took over. “Space Uncle’s orders. No activities outside of your room for the rest of the sleep cycle. I will monitor Marisol and alert you on your data pads when she wakes up and we'll go from there.” He gently assured them, mostly the Earth Rebels. “We need to keep our strength up in order to help each other.”

With no arguments, the group dispersed. Lance threw a dark look at Keith as he followed Shiro and Matt out of the room. 

***

It was freezing. That was how she knew something was terribly wrong.

The guards stationed outside of their quarters had the liberty to mess with the controls for heating, as well as water and lights. Good days were blissfully dark, decent water pressure, and almost normal temps that reminded her of fall bonfire nights. Bad days, when fights went arry or a prisoner pissed someone in power off, were the worst, the lights glared as if Heaven itself was coming down upon them, the water would be completely cut off, and the temperature would fluctuate between sweltering and barely above freezing. 

So when she started to come to and everything was already chilled and cramping, she knew today was going to be a bad, bad day. Somebody must have truly pissed them off. No point in delaying the inevitable, she was probably going to have to fight again today, so it was time to face the music. But when she opened her eyes, she was met with a blinding white light, forcing her to shut them.  
After a second, she forced her eyes open again, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light, which wasn’t as bright as she had first thought. She then realized that she wasn’t laying down on her stiff cot, but rather forced to recline slightly on a soft but uncomfortable surface. Her vision was distorted by a glass pane in front of her, warping her view of where she was. 

Just as she realized this, the panic rising in her throat, the glass shimmered and fell away with a small hiss. She felt herself careening forwards, her legs weak and clumsy. Multiple sets of arms reached out of the blue to grab her, unknown voices reprimanding almost, but she couldn’t hear them, she was focused down on her hands. 

Her unbound hands.

The Galra never undid the cuffs around her wrists. Not for fights, not for showers, not even when she was being treated by doctors. They kept her under careful watch and a hand resting on their hips, waiting for her to move wrong or speak out of turn, for any opportunity to subdue her with the pulses.  
But now they were gone, only white scarred rings to prove that they had been there.  
‘What kind of sick game did they have planned for her?’

One of the voices spoke a word, it sounded painfully familiar, like trying to name something from well back in her memory.  
They said it again. It didn’t stick until the third time.  
“Marisol. Can you hear me?”  
‘Why did that voice sound familiar?’  
“Mari? It’s me. Do you know who I am?”  
She didn’t even know who she was, how was she supposed to know who this mysterious voice belonged to.  
“Marisol, you’re scaring me. Please say something?”  
What could she say? Was she even allowed to speak? What if the Galra were waiting on her to step out of line again to show off their latest torture device. What did they do to her?

“Prodigy.” 

Her mind screeched to a halt, the flurry of thoughts freezing at the sound of that name. Was that her name? It had been so long, she almost couldn’t remember.  
"That's what they call you, right? It's alright, no need to be scared. You're safe now Prodigy.  
She finally looked up from her hands, tracing over boots and white wrapping and slim trousers and a white plated chest, (this wasn’t the usual attire of the Galra), to the long brown hair tied back out of their face, (wasn’t the Emperor’s hair white?), to a thin scar across pale skin.  
She knew that scar. She knew the scar intimately as if it were her own. That scar was the result of an incident from a Resistance force and Galra fight on some backwater planet many years ago, a window had shattered near him and he was too close, sliced the skin on his cheek open, a collection of smaller twin scars ran down pale arms and shoulders. She knew who that scar belonged to. 

“Matt?” Her voice was brittle and hardly above a whisper. If she was wrong, she didn’t want them to hear her.  
Brown eyes lit up as she looked up. A shaky smile caused the scar to stretch thin.  
“You know who I am?”

Matt Holt. Human. Communications Officer. The Green Paladin’s Brother. The Resistance Leader. The Love of Marisol’s Life.  
Marisol.  
Her name was Marisol.  
_Her name was Marisol._

She stumbled forwards out of the arms holding her upright, nearly collapsing on the ground but she forced her trembling legs to work properly for another few seconds to fling her arms around broad shoulders. His arms immediately tightened around her waist to pull her close to him, nearly sweeping her off of the ground. 

His breath shook in her ear as he shifted. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. She couldn’t even tell which one she was doing as she gripped his back, trembling in his arms. She couldn’t even comprehend words to think, let alone to speak. She burrowed her face into his shirt, breathing him in to calm her down slowly but surely.  
“Marisol. Oh God, Marisol.” He kept repeating like a broken record, holding her so tightly to him, as if he was afraid he would vanish. Marisol didn't even want to imagine what she would feel if he would evaporate into thin air, letting her wake up on her cot with tears drenching her rags and a longing in her heart.

“How did you find me?” Marisol asked into his neck, her voice sounded strained.  
“It wasn’t easy.” He started to pull away, brushing a strand out of her face, gently framing her face like she was something precious. “But I did have some help. A lot of help, actually.”  
“Colleen? Paulienne? Cree? Are they alright?” The rush and the confusion all came over her, the last time she had seen them, they were being fired at by the Galra.  
“They’re okay, they’re upstairs. We wanted to wait until you woke up and got settled before they swarmed you.”

“We?” She had finally detached herself from his grasp, re-adjusting to the blue lights of the room, looking around the room when he didn’t say anything.  
Scuffed up sneakers, a worn green jacket, blue eyes that were shinning with unshed tears. 

“Lance!”

He had almost no warning as she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him. He responded after a moment, as if holding himself back. But before she could question it she was pulled into a tight embrace, using his slight height advantage to lift her off the ground. He was muttering lowly, nearly going over her head as it took her brain a second to understand the Spanish, after so long of going without hearing their language.  
‘You’re alive. You’re here.’

He pulled back almost too soon.  
“I wish I could hug you forever, but we’ve gotta do a check up.” He motioned to a third person she hadn’t noticed, he would have blended into the background if it wasn’t for the traffic cone orange hair and mustache.  
‘Check up? What did they need to check up on?’ 

“Just making sure everything is in proper order, no memory loss or what have you.” Coran reassured her as he gestured to a cot that was set up a couple of feet away from the empty pod. Using her brother as a crutch, she made her way over, gingerly settling down onto the soft blankets. Her hands ran back and forth across the texture, smoothing the fabric out underneath her touch. When was the last time she was given something so soft?

“Can you tell me your name?” Coran asked her as he crouched before her.  
It took a moment to process and think, when was the last time someone had used her name, had addressed her as anything but Prodigy? 

“My name is Marisol Isobelle McClain.” She looked to Lance for confirmation, how horrible must it have trouble with her own name.  
“Where are you from Marisol?”  
“Miami. Florida. United States. Earth.” Things were starting to trickle back in, thoughts of her family and friends. She was a college student, she traveled across the country to find out what happened to her brother. She rode into space with Colleen inside of a Lion.  
“How old are you?”  
“22. Or am I 23?” She looked up to Matt this time for conformation.

“You just had your 23rd birthday a couple of weeks ago.”  
“I’m 23.” She restated. Had she missed her own birthday?  
“Do you know where you are?”  
“Space?” If Lance and Coran were here, then she was in space, but this didn’t look like the Castle of Lions. At least not what she remembered of it.  
“Yes, this is the Castle of Lions, all new and improved.” Coran corrected her gently “You can take a tour around when you’re feeling better. Do you remember what happened to you?”

White hair and a leering grin suddenly struck her like a slap to the face. It was gone in a flash, but the sneering lingered, she curled her arms around herself as a tingling sensation covered her skin, like spiders crawling all over her. Coran opened his mouth again, probably to ask if she was alright. Both human boys looked very worried as she spoke.  
“I-I was taken by the Galra. I was forced to fight in the arena. I was forced to kill. To become their Champion…no, I was the Prodigy.” She shuddered as more memories flooded in. The Isolation Period, Grutta, the deal she made with Lotor, the Galran soldier. More and more images and events crashed in like a tidal wave, things that she had forgotten, drowning her in loss and blood and death. 

“Marisol, it’s okay.” A gloved hand grasped her own, jolting her back from her memories. “You’re safe now.”  
She nodded shakily, willing her breath to calm down as the memories started to slow again, still unsteady, but certain enough to continue. She had to believe that she was safe.  
“What is the last thing that you remember?”  
“I just finished my 175th kill. It was a Galran. Then I was summoned by the Druids, and…” She waited for another wave of memories to take over, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as if… "I don't know?"

“That’s because we rescued you.” Lance said quickly, startling everyone in the room with how loud he spoke. “We found Lotor’s location and swooped in to rescue you.” Marisol looked to her brother in astonishment, completely missing the looks that Coran and Matt shared.  
“You did? H-How did you find me?”

“It’s a long, boring story, but you probably don’t want to hear it yet, you look exhausted.” Come to think of it, she was. Being inside the cryopod was not like sleeping, more like just being unconscious, no rest beyond what she needed to heal. She fought back a yawn as he spoke again. “We should let you sleep.”  
“But I just woke up.” She whined, trying to hide another yawn. “I haven’t seen you in who knows how long and I want to catch up and…”  
“Hey,” Lance touched her shoulder, she tried her hardest not to flinch at the movement. He withdrew his touch and lowered his voice, just realizing that he had been yelling. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up now. You need to focus on healing.”

He was right, she supposed. But she wasn’t happy about it.  
“Okay, I’ll rest. But I want to hear it when I wake up. And I want to see everyone. They need to know I’m okay.”  
“Yes Ma’am.” Lance mock saluted her, a small strained smile breaking her features. 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Matt asked quietly, a strange look on his face. Before she could address it, it was gone. Perhaps it was just her imagination conjuring things up. Wow she must have been tired.  
“Yes please, but I’m just gonna be sleeping.”  
“Then I shall be by your bedside. I’ll just ‘Edward Cullen’ you, except, you know, not in a stalker/creeper/vampiristic way.” Coran blinked several times, trying to piece it together, but Lance just muttered about it being an Earth thing.  
A snort took her by surprise, hiding her smile behind her hand. When was the last time she had laughed? When was the last time she had something to laugh about was probably the better question.  
“God, you dork.” She weakly slapped his outstretched arm, turning on the cot so she could lay down on her side. Matt eased her down onto the plush pillows, pulling the soft blankets up to her chin. 

“I’m just gonna be outside for a second, get you some clothes and water for when you wake up, okay?” He pushed the hair out of her face tenderly, a soft look taking over, she nodded, too tired to talk anymore. Marisol must have imagined the odd look earlier, she knew his faces quite well, and the only time he had that look was when someone lied.  
Sleep already pulling on her like a impatient child. She didn’t even get the chance to respond before she was floating away into the darkness.

***

Marisol was out as soon as her head hit the pillow, her soft snores filling the empty space. He couldn’t help the small grin across his face, seeing her so relaxed for the first time in phoebs. Matt detached his hand from where he had been stroking the bleached streaks out of her face and tiptoed his way across the room, allowing the glass door to slide shut behind him. 

Coran and Lance were already there waiting for him to close the door, Coran almost as red as his hair, tapping his foot and crossing his arms like his father used to do when he would catch Matt out past curfew. How could Matt have forgotten what the younger man had said.  
What the hell was he thinking? Outright lying to Marisol about what had happened was not a part of their plan. 

“Lance, what were you thinking?” Coran asked quietly, willing his face to return to a normal color.  
“She doesn’t remember anything. She has no idea what she’s done. I didn’t want to be the one to make her remember all of those things.” Lance tried his best to act nonchalant, but his refusal to meet either of their eyes showed his true intentions.  
“But you lied to her." Coran anguished as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Marisol just a few feet away.  
“I’m trying to protect her.”  
“By lying!”

“Lance, we can’t keep her in the dark forever.” Matt interjected. As much as he would have loved to scrub her clean of what had happened, it still existed, no amount of lying could cover that up.  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”  
“Lance, Marisol is smart, too damn smart for either of us. She’ll find some hole in whatever web of lies you conjure up. She hates being lied to, more than anything.”  
Marisol even hated surprise birthdays because she couldn’t stand the notion that someone known about something and refused to tell to her for weeks. It was more than a pet peeve to her, this was akin to betrayal.

“I know.” Lance deflated, the weight of his actions settling over him five minutes too late. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m glad that she doesn’t remember. She doesn’t need to and if I can help it, she won’t. Now is the time for her to forget everything that happened to her and move on.”  
“I’m not sure she’ll see it that way.” Matt said lowly. 

“What if we wait until we get to Olkarion. We don’t know what her mental state is, she might not be ready to handle this. The Olkari can help her, and maybe when she wakes up, she’ll remember without us having to tell her.”  
“That’s a mighty 'if' to base it off of.” Coran already disapproved, which must have been a huge blow to Lance, (considering Lance was his indisputable favorite).  
“Let’s wait until she’s ready, then we’ll tell her everything. Please? I don't want to hurt her more than we already are.” 

Matt hated lying to her, mainly for the reasons above, but he also could see how much this was hurting Lance. If Marisol was in a worse condition than they thought, this revelation could kill her. She would never be able to forgive herself for hurting her baby brother.  
“I still think it’s a bad idea, but fine, let's dig our grave.”

Lance looked over at Coran, pleading him with wide eyes. The ginger haired man didn’t stand a chance, even when furious, Lance was his favorite.  
“Oh quiznacking Ancients, fine. We’ll tell her when she’s ready. But you have to be the one to tell the others. The last thing we want is for her to be told too soon by someone else.”  
“Fine by me.” Lance nodded once and turned on his heel. Matt could see the tension in his shoulders, but he’s the one who took on this burden. They all were going to have to shoulder it and take the fall if (when) this blew up in their faces.

As the door slid shut behind him, Coran chuckled.  
“What’s funny?” Matt asked.  
“This reminds me of those old Altean dramas I used to watch as a teenager. One person lies about something huge and keeps the truth a secret.” He looked up at Matt, his eyes dark with understanding. “And it goes wrong. Every single time.” 

He casted a look back at Marisol, sleeping soundly behind the glass wall. “I suppose I could go find her some clothing. I believe Paulienne said something about grabbing her bag from Earth, I believe she still has it in her possession.”  
“That would be great. Thank you, Coran.”  
“Of course, m’boy. It’ll be best to enjoy the peace while it still lasts.” 

As Coran walked out, Matt went back to Marisol, still snoozing peacefully, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just beyond consciousness. He sighed deeply as he settled down next to her cot, laying his chin on the edge to look over her.  
When she woke up, she was going to have a tough time adjusting already, and now this secret hung over their heads like a guillotine on a thin strand. No telling when it could fall, or if it would. 

But when it did, the mess it was going to create might be enough to ruin everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I never realized how similar the names Paulienne and Colleen were until I had to write them out side by side...  
> As always, please leave kudos and comments! (I thrive off of affirmations from people on the internet lol)


End file.
